


Family New And Old

by juniperwillows



Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Blackmail, Brotherhood, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fatherhood, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Kim Namjoon | RM-centric, Misunderstandings, Overworking, Reconciliation, Secrets, Single Parent Kim Namjoon | RM, dad!namjoon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:28:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24230593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juniperwillows/pseuds/juniperwillows
Summary: “You- you can’tdothis.”Manager Geonwu slid a packet of paper over to Namjoon and leaned back in his chair with a sigh. “I’m afraid you’ll find we can, Mr. Kim.”The leader's heart sunk as he recognized the papers of his original contract.“Section 8.2 clearly states that we have the right to request that you leave if your behavior should grow problematic. And if that fails, provided there is enough cause, we have the right to terminate your contract with or without your consent. We hope that you maintain your honor and agree to leave quietly.”“I don’twantto leave.” Namjoon cut in.“Then you are willing to forfeit your right to guardianship and agree to have nothing to do with the child?”
Comments: 60
Kudos: 187





	1. Chapter 1

_2014_

Namjoon stared down at the papers in front of him, hoping desperately that in a moment his alarm would go off, or his members would jump out from behind the manager’s desk and shout " _Prank cam! We got you didn’t we?_ ”

But no one jumped out and no camera crew was revealed, and though he’d been pinching his arm for the last half hour, hard enough to leave bruises, he was still sitting here. 

“You- you can’t _do_ this.” Namjoon finally managed to say, mindless of how his voice was shaking.

Manager Geonwu slid a packet of paper over to Namjoon and leaned back in his chair with a sigh. “I’m afraid you’ll find we can, Mr. Kim.”

The leader’s heart sunk as he recognized the papers of his original contract.

“I’ve taken the liberty of highlighting the important parts for you.” The man said, checking his watch as if he weren’t upending Namjoon’s _entire life_.

“Section 8.2 clearly states that we have the right to request that you leave if your behavior should grown problematic. And if that fails, provided there is enough cause, we have the right to terminate your contract with or without your consent. We hope that you maintain your honor and agree to leave quietly.”

“I don’t _want_ to leave.” Namjoon cut in. 

“Then you are willing to forfeit your right to guardianship and agree to have nothing to do with the child?” 

Namjoon’s eyes strayed to the folder sitting on the left of the desk, to the photo clipped to the front. The chubby smile, tiny fingers, bright blue eyes. Namjoon knew he must be imagining it, but he could swear he could see his own features reflected back at him, smaller and softer. 

He took in a sharp breath, eyes fixed on the photo. 

_His daughter._

“Mr. Kim." Geonwu was now wearing a sympathetic expression that made Namjoon's stomach turn. It just looked _wrong_ on his face, now that Namjoon could see how heartless the man truly was. "It’s not a hard choice here. We can ensure that she goes to a loving family."

“I’m sorry to say this," The man reached out to rest a hand on the folder. "But... You’re twenty-one years old. An idol. A rapper. What do you know of parenthood? What would you be able to offer her? A life of instability? Of rumors and paparazzi? Of no mother?”

“I-I can’t just _abandon_ her.” Namjoon whispered. He felt numb, his brain moving slowly, struggling to catch up.

It didn't feel real, part of him kept insisting _this can't be real,_ but the evidence was _right there_ , staring back at him from a harmless looking grey folder. 

Geonwu shook his head, sighing softly. “You wouldn’t be abandoning her. You’d be ensuring a better life for her. Isn’t that first and foremost what everyone wants for their child?”

And Namjoon couldn’t help the little flutter in his chest, reminding him _I’m a dad now. I’m a dad now. I’m a dad._

“I wouldn't be able to visit her?” He asked, almost pleading as he met the manager's gaze.

Geonwu shook his head, office chair squeaking as he shifted. “It would be for the best, Mr. Kim. Your presence would likely just confuse and upset her place in her new family.”

“I..”

Namjoon couldn’t tear his eyes away from the photo, the little pink headband wrapped around hair that was just beginning to darken. He wondered if she’d grow up to be as clumsy as him or get her mother’s gracefulness. If she’d inherited his awful singing voice and his smarts, her mother’s raspy laugh and ability to read anyone like a sheet of paper. He wondered if he’d be able to stand the rest of his life knowing that his _daughter_ was out there somewhere. And he couldn’t be a part of her life.

He gritted his teeth and moisture pricked at his eyes as he dragged his gaze up to Geonwu. “I could make it work. I could have both.”

The manager tapped hard on the folder as he leaned forward, expression turning cold so quickly that Namjoon's eyes widened. “All you would do is embroil BTS in a scandal that would destroy you and your members right here at the start and ruin their dreams of ever succeeding in this industry. Is that what you want your legacy to be?"

The man scoffed, sitting back. "Let me make this clear to you, Mr. Kim. It’s one or the other. You can’t have both.”

The air felt heavy, a pressure on his chest with every breath, the four walls of the office closing in. Namjoon gazed at the tabletop, heart hammering in his ears.

Two stacks of paper. Two paths. 

_Relinquish his right to his daughter or terminate his contract and give up his place in BTS_. 

“I have other matters to attend to, so we need to clear this up today.” Geonwu said, checking his watch again. 

Namjoon shot him a watery glare, feeling a flash of hatred for the man. 

_How was anyone supposed to make this sort of decision in one afternoon?_

_How was anyone..._

There was still the distant sound of horns honking on the street outside and voices in the hall, but they felt realities away. The world had ground to a halt, his thoughts so silent and so loud at the same time, a useless jumble of frantic chaos.

_He didn't know what to do- he didn't know what to do- what were the fans going to think- he was too young to deal with this- he had a daughter- the backlash from this would be insurmountable- he was a dad now- the others were going to hate him- and he didn't know what to do- he didn't know- he didn't- he..._

"Mr. Kim. Your choice?" The man asked, impatiently. 

_... he knew._

Namjoon reached out and slowly slid the photo out from under the paperclip. He took a shaky breath. 

_Maybe one day his members would be able to forgive him._

He picked up the pen, hand trembling slightly, and signed.

* * *

_2019_

"I'm so sorry, excuse me!" 

The woman he'd almost bowled over turned around to shoot him a glare and Namjoon winced but kept his pace. The apron he didn't have time to properly pack away was hanging half out of his backpack, flapping behind him. 

Increasing his (admittedly aggressive) speed walk to a jog, he skidded around a corner and nearly tripped over the curb, recovering in time to duck inside the school gates. 

Checking his phone, he cursed under his breath, slowing to a walk and pausing outside the double doors so he could straighten his jacket and try to comb his hair into something presentable with his hand. 

The halls were empty save for a lone custodian, who gifted him the customary look of disapproval. Namjoon didn't falter, just waved a polite hello and continued speed-walking his way down the hall. 

_Shit, this was the third time this week. He was in for it._

Finally, he spotted a familiar placard on the wall and took a deep, readying, breath before stepping into the doorway. 

And there was Hayun, swinging her legs, her expression impatient. On the other side of the wide desk sat the school principal, gaze fixed on her paperwork.

“Hello.” He said, wincing a bit at the way his voice broke the silence of the office.

His daughter’s head snapped up, a grin overtaking over her face as she slid out of her seat. 

“Appa!” She threw himself in his direction and Namjoon barely knelt in time to catch her.

"Oof!" He huffed as she squeezed his neck so tightly it was hard to breathe, a smile taking over his face despite himself. “Hi, Hayunnie.”

The principal cleared her throat, standing. “Hayun, would you mind waiting with Secretary Yeom for just a minute while I speak with your father?”

Hayun made a pouty face that only Namjoon could see, but dutifully stepped back. 

"Yes, seonsaengnim." She recited. She grabbed her little backpack off the chair and disappeared into the room next door. 

Namjoon stood, straightening his shirt and flashing an apologetic smile. The principal did not smile back. 

“Mr. Kim, I’ve informed you before that we only provide after school care until three-”

“I know, I apologize. We had an emergency at the store and my coworker showed up late. It won’t happen again.”

It was a promise he couldn't keep and they both knew it.

The principal sighed, uncrossing her arms. “I know that you... aren’t in the best of circumstances at this time, but we cannot continue this. It is against school policy to have students on the premises after three p.m as we don’t have anyone to watch over them. You must arrange a place for Hayun to be after then. There are several programs available nearby-”

“Thank you, I’ll look into it.” He told her. “I apologize again for the inconvenience.”

_He didn’t need to look into it; he already had. The programs were too expensive. They couldn’t afford it right now._

The principal nodded after a moment, and picked up a sheet off the side of her desk, handing it over to him. “There’s one other matter... Hayun’s school fees for the term haven’t been paid yet. They’re long overdue.”

Namjoon scrubbed a hand down his face as he caught sight of the numbers. “You’ll have them soon. I just... need to take a couple more shifts.”

The principal’s face was sympathetic but unyielding. “I’ll expect them soon. Find an after school program for your daughter, Mr. Kim.”

His daughter was regaling the secretary with a dramatic retelling of her recess antics when Namjoon walked up. He paused for a moment in the doorway, smiling softly as he watched her reenact the turning point of the game when the slide had turned to "lava." Mrs. Yeom, a middle aged woman whose abundant patience made Namjoon almost certain she had children of her own, was nodding quite seriously at the mostly nonsensical tale.

There was an amused light in her eye as she caught Namjoon's gaze. 

He cleared his throat, stepping forward. "Hayun, time to go."

He nodded a thanks to Mrs. Yeom as Hayun said goodbye and slipped her hand in his.

The pair made their way down the hall, the custodian's gaze softening at the sight of Hayun beaming up at him.

"What is that?" She asked, reaching out for the paper in his hands.

"Just some information for me from the principal." He said, cleanly folding it in half and tucking it in his pocket. He winked at her pouty face, swinging their hands between them to distract her. "Nothing interesting, don't worry."

Namjoon was eager to get out of the building before the school could decide to add more fees he couldn't afford. He swore they thought up more every day. He could see the principal jogging after him. _"Mr. Kim, wait! I forgot to tell you that you still owe the fees for Hayun breathing the school's air. Yes, good air is expensive now, so we've had to start charging for it."_

“Can we go to the park today?” 

Namjoon pushed open the door, holding it so Hayun could skip through. 

_Joking aside, how much longer could he put off the school fees? One month, two? Would they start denying Hayun services like lunch if he failed to pay?_

“Appa?”

Namjoon brought himself back to the moment. Hayun was looking up at him with exaggeratedly wide eyes, the ones she had taken to using when she wanted something. Someone at school had tried to teach her 'puppy dog eyes' last week, and while she had the cuteness mastered already, he didn't have the heart to tell her that her wide-eyed expression looked more like an insect.

He stroked his chin, pretending to think hard as they made their way across the schoolyard. 

"The park? What park?” 

“We were just there last week!” Hayun giggled, well accustomed to this joke. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know the way to any park.” He shrugged, starting for the bus stop at the end of the street. "Guess we’ll just have to go home, because I don’t know the way.”

Hayun dug in her heels to bring him to a halt. “Wait, wait, wait! I know the way! I can take us! We can still go!”

He gasped at her, peering down. “You can show me the way?”

She nodded her head vigorously. “I know the way!” 

“Then lead on, oh great explorer!” He called, ignoring the strange looks from a group of older women on the other side of the street, focusing instead on Hayun's giggles. 

He let Hayun tug him down the sidewalk, pointing excitedly in the direction of the park.

“How was school? What did you learn today?” Namjoon asked, stumbling a bit at her insistent grip on his sleeve. 

Hayun pulled him around a teen walking her dog and he had to hop quickly to avoid getting his feet tangled in the leash.

“We talked about about stars and planets and the sun and then Minju cried because one of the boys said we’d all die if the sun went out and he got in trouble.” His daughter announced, oblivious to the chaos following her. She thankfully began to slow when they came to the first street they had to cross, allowing Namjoon to catch his breath.

“That’s not very nice of him.” Namjoon said, checking carefully for cars before the two began to cross.

“But teacher told us the sun won’t go out for a long time. Was she telling the truth or just saying that to be nice?” Hayun wrinkled her nose, tilting her head to look up at Namjoon. “I don’t think I’d like it very much without the sun. 

“Me either." Namjoon admitted. "But we’re safe. There are scientists who watch the sun and they say it’ll be around for billions of years.”

“How much is a billion?”

“It’s one thousand million.” 

The girl nodded decisively, looking away again. “A million is a lot. We’re safe.”

She let out an excited shout as the park came into view across the next intersection. Namjoon managed to snag her sleeve before she broke into a run.

“Remember what we talked about, Hayun?” 

Hayun peered up at him, nodding very seriously. “Running on a crosswalk can be dangerous because drivers sometimes can’t see you.” She recited. 

She studiously looked both ways and kept a walking pace as they crossed, until they finally reached the boundaries of the park. Then she shoved her bag into Namjoon’s hands. “Hold this, please.” She said and broke into a run for the jungle gym. 

Namjoon followed at a more sedate pace, hiking the bag up over one shoulder. 

_He needed to get another part time job. Shit._

He scuffed a hand through his hair. He didn’t have the _time_ for another job. He barely got enough time with Hayun as it was. But there wasn’t really a choice. Now that she was officially in elementary school, expenses were racking up from having to buy uniforms and supplies, and pay school fees. 

“Appa, come play with me!” Hayun called impatiently from the top of the playground, where she had commandeered the small plastic wheel. “We’re explorers sailing to find treasure!”

Namjoon shook his head slightly, forcing himself to put his worries away, and grinned at his daughter. He clambered up into the play structure to join her, setting down their bags. At least there were no other parents around to judge him today.

“Where are we headed today, Captain?” He asked, crouching down so he could fit into the tiny “wheelhouse,” a part of the playground with a little pointed roof.

Hayun pointed ahead towards a gleaming silver office building. “To the North Pole to visit the palace of the penguin king! He has another clue for us!”

Namjoon gave her his best salute and leaned over the side of the structure, hoisting up imaginary rigging.

“Full sails ahead!”

* * *

_“... Love is nothing stronger... than a boy with love... Love is nothing stronger... than a boy with love...”_

“Thank you for shopping with us. Please come again soon.” Namjoon said, handing over the woman’s shopping bag and receipt. 

The ancient cash register got jammed as usual when he tried to close it. Namjoon thumped the side of it until it finally slid fully shut. 

“Kim, someone spilled a bag of flour over here. Come get this cleaned up!” His boss' yell echoed back from further back in the store.

Namjoon didn't lean down to bang his head on the counter, but it was a near thing. He shot a quick glance at the clock next to the register. _Just one more hour._

“Of course, sir!” He called, projecting as much energy into his voice as he could (it wasn't much). He ducked under the counter and went to grab the broom from the back. 

The sight at the head of the aisle made him stop in his tracks, dismay shooting through him. It looked like a bag of flour had _exploded,_ spilling off the shelf and trailing halfway down the aisle in a great white streak.

_“Oh my my my. Oh my my my. You got me high so fast…”_

The convenience store, a tiny, perpetually dusty little thing, tucked on the very edge of where the kinda-unsafe part of Seoul turned into decidedly-unsafe, always seemed to be two steps away from closing forever. The “ _C_ _losing Sale-Everything 50% Off_ ” sign had been up the entire almost nine months that Namjoon had worked here with no sign of the doors actually closing. 

The owner was trying to revamp the place, hence the new countertop, slightly updated sign, and the playlist that repeated the twenty most popular current hits, over and over again on a loop.

It was Namjoon’s own personal hell. 

It also meant that he got to listen to his former best friends, who he’d bet were now probably millionaires, sing their top hits day after day, as he sat this dusty store, cleaning up puke from the drunks that always seemed to wander in, and trying to pretend that he couldn’t hear his boss sobbing over old dramas in the back office instead of doing all the paperwork Namjoon knew they were months behind on. 

_“... Oh my my my. Oh my my my. You got me fly so fast…”_

He probably knew the song better than _they_ did at this point, what with hearing it two dozen times every shift.

Namjoon swept the broom harder than he meant to and sent a cloud of flour flying up. He coughed, stumbling back, but not in time to prevent the powder from settling into his red apron. _Great._ Namjoon squeezed the bridge of his nose with two fingers and forced himself to take a deep breath. Just another hour. Then he’d be at home with Hayun.

_"... Love is nothing stronger, than a boy with, than a boy with love..."_

The bell on the door jingled so Namjoon haphazardly swept the rest of the flour up. He missed a few spots but frankly couldn't bring himself to care, given that he'd be coming back with the mop later anyway.

“Hello? Is anyone here?” 

“Yes, just a moment!” He called. 

Namjoon dumped the flour in the trashcan in the back and jogged up to the front, hastily trying to brush the excess off his apron. It smeared in white streaks instead. He fought off a sigh. 

_Whatever._ As long as he got it off with some water before his boss could spot it and yell at him about being presentable- like the man didn’t have food stains all over his shirt every day- then he’d be fine. 

There was a man in a black baseball cap and a long tan coat peering down the aisles, checking back and forth with a crumpled list in his hand. 

Namjoon hurried up, forcing his expression into a smile. “Sorry for the delay, can I help you find something?”

The customer turned, face scrunched up slightly, mumbling under his breath about picky... _maknaes?_ “I’m looking for a certain brand of ramen-” The man finally looked up at Namjoon and his eyes went wide, voice trailing off into silence.

It took Namjoon a long moment to register the face, slimmer and more sculpted than he remembered, and his mind ground to a halt.

What... _what?_

“Namjoon-ah?” Hoseok blurted out, staring at him like he’d seen a ghost.

Namjoon's heart was thumping, flushing his limbs with panic.

_Hoseok-ah was standing here. In his convenience store. At 11 pm._

“Hoseok...ssi.” He said slowly.

Hoseok blinked at the formality, his expression settling a bit into something more guarded. “It’s been... a long time.”

_Five years. Five long years since he'd been called for an emergency meeting with the manager and walked out of that practice room door, unaware that he was walking out of his members' lives forever._

“Congratulations on your recent win.” Namjoon said, offering a small smile. “It was well deserved.”

Hoseok seemed almost to be in shock, but tipped his head in an automatic motion. “Thank you. You... work here?” 

Namjoon was aware of Hoseok taking in his scuffed shoes, wrinkled shirt, and haphazard self-trimmed hair. He shifted self-consciously. 

“Part time.”

There was a slight lull as Hoseok just stared at him.

“You’re looking for a certain brand of ramen?” Namjoon asked finally, because _what else was there to say?_ He'd made his choice, and he'd come to terms with it. They were different people now, with completely different lives. 

The past was the past. 

Hoseok blinked, glancing back down at his list. “Uh, yeah. Star Ramen _._ ”

Namjoon nodded, consulting his mental map of the store. “That should be near the end of aisle two, third row from the top.”

Hoseok looked at the haphazard aisles that lacked any sort of numbering or labelling system, despite the _many_ times Namjoon had brought it up with his boss, and took a hesitant step towards a random aisle.

Namjoon took pity on him. “I’ll show you the way.”

Without help, the man would probably have to wander for ten minutes before finding what he needed. Most customers who didn’t ask for assistance did. 

He led Hoseok on a winding path through the overpacked shelves to the back corner where the ramen was located. The bulb for the light above the corner was out again, and Namjoon made a half-hearted mental note to replace it. He held back a sigh as they came to a stop in front of the precariously tilting stacks of ramen. They looked ready to collapse at the slightest touch.

“Might want to take them from the top.” He offered apologetically. 

Hoseok had to lean in close and squint to read the packaging in the dim light, but finally he selected a few packets and stepped back. To Namjoon’s relief nothing fell. He could see the headlines now: _"Convenience store sued after idol receives concussion from badly stacked merchandise."_

“Do you need help finding anything else or…?”

Hoseok consulted his list again. “Do you have cough drops and Tylenol?”

The tiny medical section was pretty sparse and they only had one box of Tylenol on the shelf. Hoseok picked it up, looking satisfied, but Namjoon cleared his throat.

“Ah, you might want to check the date. Just to be sure.”

Hoseok flipped the box over and his eyebrows shot into his forehead. “This expired in 2007.”

Namjoon barely managed not to wince. _That was pretty impressive, considering this convenience store had first opened in 2012._

“My apologies. We’re currently working on updating inventory. Every so often we find something that was missed.”

 _Every so often as in every single day._ He was beginning to doubt his boss had _ever_ cleaned out the shelves. 

Hoseok went to put the pack of medicine back but seemed to think better of it and handed it to Namjoon, who stuffed it in his apron to throw out later.

Namjoon led him over to the next aisle and motioned to their section of mints and cough drops.

“It’s not a very diverse selection. You might want to try the H-Mart two blocks down if you don’t see what you want. They have more options. And non-expired Tylenol.”

Hoseok raised his eyebrows. “Isn’t that a bad marketing move? Recommending other stores to me?”

Namjoon just shrugged. He was too tired to argue for this place. It sucked. But it paid relatively well because no one wanted to take a shift at night in this part of town. 

He tidied up the gum section while Hoseok looked over the cough drop choices. Eventually Hoseok picked up two different flavors, honey and cherry, looking back and forth between them. He pulled out his phone and texted someone, tapping his fingers on his coat as he waited for a reply. 

Overhead, the speakers began to make the little skipping noise that signaled that Namjoon needed to go manually restart the CD player. Pointedly ignoring it, Namjoon instead straightened the same pack of gum for the fifth time.

Eventually, Hoseok pushed his phone back in his pocket. “Why didn’t he clarify the type?” He muttered under his breath, staring between the two choices again. 

A car blared its horn somewhere close by. 

Namjoon cleared his throat. “Honey.”

Hoseok turned startled eyes to him. "What?"

Namjoon shifted, awkwardly pointing to the bags in Hoseok's hands. “The cough drops are for Jungkook-ssi, right? He prefers honey, or um, he used to. Said the cherry tastes too much like medicine.”

Something raw flit across Hoseok’s face as he stared at him and for a second, Namjoon expected the man to start yelling. But after a moment, the dancer just put down the cherry pack and stepped back.

“I can check you out at the front register.” Namjoon said quietly.

Hoseok’s expensive shoes were soft on the tile behind him as Namjoon led them back to the front. He ducked under the desk and began scanning the items Hoseok placed on the counter. 

The ancient CD player was still making the annoying noise so Namjoon leaned over and pressed the play button for the disk to restart. The opening notes of _Make it Right_ began to blast through the speakers and Namjoon immediately wanted to melt through the floor. He ducked his head and focused on the register.

“That’ll be 15000 won. Cash or card?”

When he looked up, Hoseok’s lips were titled up, eyes flickering to the old speakers. “Card.” He handed it over and Namjoon swiped it. 

The checkout program lagged, as it always did, circle spinning around and around.

“This your playlist?” 

Namjoon heard the underlying question. He shook his head. “It’s a top hits playlist. My coworker made it.”

It came out harsher than he intended and Hoseok seemed to shutter off slightly, taking his card back without another word. 

It wasn’t that Namjoon never listened to their music. He’d heard most of their work. Usually late at night, when his self control was low. Their music was good, _really_ good. But it just hurt too much. Rap verse additions always seemed to spring into his mind, extra parts, _his_ parts. 

But Hoseok looked so... stiff that he couldn’t leave it like that.

“I would have included _Idol_.” He blurted out. 

Hoseok glanced up from his wallet.

“If I had made the playlist," Namjoon said, a bit stiltingly. "I would have included _Idol_ too. It was very well done."

The elder seemed to weigh his words for a moment before he gave a quiet, _"_ Thank you."

“Would you like a bag and a receipt?”

Hoseok nodded and Namjoon packed up the items. At the last second, he slid something else in, out of the Hoseok's view. Namjoon would pay for it himself later.

“Thank you for shopping with us. Please come again soon.” Namjoon recited, handing the bag over.

The cash register began to screech, a high pitched alarm meant to warn when someone was tampering with it but wasn't installed correctly and tended to go off randomly.

Namjoon hit the side of it until it dwindled to a stop, his gaze wandering to the clock. Little more than half-an-hour now and he could finally go home. Hug his daughter and collapse in bed. Try to forget that this interaction had ever happened.

“Namjoon-ah.”

To his surprise, Hoseok was still standing there, looking strangely conflicted, his hands twisting the handles of the plastic bags. 

Namjoon took in a breath, staring at Hoseok in the dim fluorescent lighting.

The man opened his mouth but stopped, shifting on his feet. A moment later he smiled, a strained thing, and straightened up, looking every bit the idol he was.

“I wish you the best, Namjoon-ah.” He said quietly.

Namjoon could only blink at him in surprise.

The bell jingled against glass and Hoseok was gone.

* * *

Hoseok closed the door to the dorm behind him, sliding off his shoes. 

“Jungkook-ah! I have your medicine.” He called absentmindedly, his brain still running over the last hour.

He’d just seen Namjoon, _talked_ to Namjoon. For the first time in five years. He'd had no idea that Namjoon was even still living in Seoul. He’d never really known if he’d ever see the man again. 

And the strangest thing was... Namjoon... wasn’t angry. Hoseok had always imagined him getting fed up and leaving in the middle of the night, going back to underground rap, writing verses about how fake he’d found them all, how much he’d hated it, spitting lines aimed vaguely at them on some dim stage while music pumped in the background. 

But he hadn’t seemed angry. Not at all. Not at Hoseok, not at BTS, not at their success without him.

 _Nothing_ in that exchange had gone how Hoseok had expected it to. He used to imagine it all the time in those first few months, yelling, ranting, at a startled Namjoon at some awards show or on the sidewalk even. Finally getting to knock the man down a few pegs, demand answers, force him to feel some remorse for the horrible pain he'd caused. 

But then Namjoon been there in front of him, a clerk at a convenience store, and it was so unexpected Hoseok had been left reeling. And Namjoon had smiled at Hoseok, and it had been _genuine_ despite the dark circles under his eyes, the exhausted lines of his face. 

Seokjin poked his head around the doorway to the kitchen. "You're back, good." He said shortly. "Can you give me a hand?" 

His thoughts still swirling, Hoseok crossed through the silent living room and set the bags on the kitchen table. Seokjin was already back at the counter, chopping up carrots and tossing them into a steaming pot. He waved his hand to motion Hoseok over, expression harried. 

"I got called in for a meeting with Sejin-nim," He checked his watch and grimaced. "In twenty minutes. Can you just finish this, please? It's soup for Jungkook-ah." 

Hoseok shifted from foot to foot. "Ah, I was going to head over to the practice rooms tonight."

The elder chopped another carrot, sliding the pieces off the cutting board into the pot with one smooth motion, and turned to shoot him a look. 

"All you have to do is slice one onion and the celery and just _be_ here while it simmers for half an hour."

Hoseok hesitated. "Can't Jimin-ah or Tae-" He ventured. 

He didn't miss the frustration that passed over Seokjin's face. 

"None of them are here." The elder said evenly. 

"Oh."

The silence was painfully awkward, as Hoseok was aware he should offer to help. But he couldn't bring himself to give up his free evening. He really, _really,_ just wanted to shut himself in a practice room and dance all his confusion over seeing Namjoon again away. 

"It's fine, I can finish when I get back." Seokjin said finally, but he didn't look at Hoseok. He flicked off the stove, and tossed the knife in the sink with a clatter. His hands were clenched overly tight around the pot as he lifted it off the stove. 

"Okay." Hoseok muttered. He tried to ignore the guilt welling in his chest. 

A door opened and closed and Jungkook shuffled into the kitchen, wrapped head to toe in a blanket and looking absolutely miserable. His nose was flushed red and the hair visible under his beanie was sweaty.

“Feeling any better?” Hoseok asked, dredging up a smile for the younger boy's sake.

“No.” Jungkook huffed, dropping into a kitchen chair and digging out a tissue from the endless folds of his blanket.

Hoseok patted him on the head sympathetically and handed him the two bags. “Well, your schedule is cleared tomorrow so you’ll have time to sleep. There’s some Tylenol in there for your fever. Where are the others?”

 _“_ Tae went out. Yoongi-hyung’s at the studio. I dunno where Jimin-hyung is. Probably the practice rooms. _”_

Hoseok stilled, frowning. “None of them stayed? You’re sick.”

Jungkook shrugged casually, avoiding his eyes, but Hoseok could see the tension in his shoulders. “They all had things to do. I told them they could go.”

“Doesn’t mean they should have gone.” Seokjin muttered somewhere behind them, shoving something a little harder than necessary into the fridge. 

Hoseok winced at the sound. 

Seokjin brushed past him, squeezing Jungkook's shoulders once. "I'll be back in an hour or so and then you can have soup, Kookie. Why don't you lie down on the couch?" The two disappeared into the living room, leaving Hoseok standing in the middle of the kitchen floor. 

There was rustling from the other room as Jungkook began to unpack the groceries. 

“Don’t eat the cough drops like candy!” Hoseok heard Seokjin say firmly. “They have medicine in them. I'll see you later, Kookie." There was pointedly no goodbye for Hoseok.

The dancer let out a breath as he heard the door swing shut, shoulders slumping. _Seokjin was angry with him._ He didn't feel like dancing anymore.

Jungkook was staring at his hands, a strange expression on his face, when Hoseok joined him in the living room. 

“Did I get the right kind?” Hoseok asked, suddenly afraid that Namjoon had lied to him.

“Oh, um, yeah. But... I didn’t think you remembered.” Jungkook held up a puff roll in its bright orange packaging. He gazed at the snack in his hands, looking almost lost. “These always used to make me feel better. Back when I got sick in the early days. I forgot.”

Jungkook pushed to his feet, hesitated for a moment, and wrapped his arms around the dancer.

“Thank you, Hobi-hyung.” Jungkook said quietly.

Hoseok finally remembered to hug the boy back, patting his shoulder. “You’re welcome, Jungkook-ah.” 

Jungkook released him and returned to his blanket cocoon on the couch, and Hoseok turned back to the kitchen, mind whirling.

Even Hoseok had forgotten about those rolls. _But Namjoon had remembered... even after five years._

Namjoon, who'd gone from being a rapper, an idol, and a producer, to working the night shift in a trashy convenience store.

_What in the world had happened?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was inspired by the interview on Radio Disney where Namjoon said when he was younger he wanted to be a dad! My heart went AWWW!!


	2. Chapter 2

The clock ticked closer to midnight and Hoseok couldn’t stop himself from checking his phone again. 

Jungkook had long since fallen asleep next to him, head lolling on Hoseok’s shoulder. It was such a rare occurrence that the elder was doing his best not to move a muscle and disturb him. _But a_ _ish, Jungkook better not get him sick._

He wished he could fall asleep like the younger boy, he should _already_ be asleep given the schedule they had tomorrow, but he couldn’t get his mind to stop _spinning_. He’d already sent a third text to Seokjin asking when he’d be home and was debating just calling, but he didn’t want to risk interrupting the meeting. _Why had it lasted so long anyway?_

There was the familiar jangle of a key in the lock and the door swung open quietly. Seokjin stepped inside, exhaustion painted across his features in a way that he usually didn’t let the rest of them see. He slid off his shoes, stilling when he caught sight of Hoseok and Jungkook on the couch.

“How were the practice rooms?” He asked, something still terse in his words.

“I didn’t go.” Hoseok admitted. “I finished the soup. Jungkook-ah really liked it.” 

He tried to lace as much apology as he could into his tone without having to say it outright, and tried not to feel hurt to see the genuine surprise on Seokjin’s face. The elder’s shoulders slumped, the edge disappearing. 

“Thank you, Hobi.” He murmured, moving into the room. 

Jungkook stirred and pushed himself upright, squinting in the light.

His bleary eyes lit up when he caught sight of Seokjin. “Hyung, you’re back!”

“I’m back.” Seokjin repeated, obviously holding back a smile. The boy’s hair was sticking straight up in little tufts from where he had been slumped against his hyung's shoulder. “It’s late, what are you guys doing up?”

Hoseok tried very hard to look like he wasn’t purposefully avoiding Seokjin’s gaze- _no, the carpet texture was just very interesting tonight, had it always been that color?_

“We were just… waiting for you.” Jungkook mumbled. “You left pretty early and we didn’t know if you had time to eat. And you said an hour, but it’s been three… And something could have happened. But… but you’re back now.” He was unable to hide the relief in his voice. 

“Anyway, I’m gonna head to bed.” He said quickly.

Something deeply understanding came into Seokjin’s eyes but Jungkook was already off the couch and beeline-ing for the door. 

“Jungkook-ah.” Seokjin said quietly. 

The maknae slowed to a halt, turning to look at him, trying desperately to look unbothered. 

“Yeah?”

“No matter how angry I get,” Seokjin said, taking a step forward. “I’m not disappearing, okay? I’m always gonna come home again.”

“Yeah, yeah of course.” Jungkook forced a laugh. It was far too high and fell flat in the room.

Seokjin watched him disappear into the hall and sighed. He collapsed into the couch next to Hoseok. They two sat in silence for a long moment. 

“Hobi.” Seokjin said hesitantly. “You knew I’d be back, right?”

“Yeah, of course.” Hoseok said.

Maybe he'd paused a second too long because Seokjin turned to look at him with sharp eyes. The elder actually looked _hurt._

“I wouldn’t do that to you all. I’m not... I'm not like him.”

“I know, Jin.” Hoseok said lightly.

He didn’t point out that Namjoon had seemed like the _least_ likely person to walk away, up until the moment he’d really done it. He’d been there since day one, after all, long before the rest of them had come into the project that became BTS. _And see how that had turned out..._

“I saw him today.” Hoseok blurted out, unable to hold it back any longer.

Seokjin’s brow furrowed. “Who?” 

“Namjoon. I saw Namjoon-ah.”

The elder winced, fixing his gaze on the carpet. “Hoseok-ah, there’s a lot of people who look similar to Namjoon in the world. Remember the man that Taehyung followed for ten blocks that called the police? Or the guy in Hong Kong airport? That one Chinese actor that Jungkook-ah nearly knocked over at the 2017 MAMAs?”

“No.” Hoseok shook his head impatiently. “It’s not like that, I _talked_ to him.”

Seokjin just raised his eyebrows. “Where?” 

“At a convenience store.” 

“You ran into Namjoon at a convenience store.” Seokjin said flatly, like he thought Hoseok had broken open his "cooking" wine and imagined the whole thing. 

“He works there.” Hoseok snapped and held up a hand at the following expression of disbelief. “I swear it was him, hyung. I looked him square in the face, no mask. He congratulated us on our win, and complemented _Idol._ Told me what flavor cough drop Jungkook would like, and even added an orange puff pastry.”

The last one had Seokjin pausing, his face paling. “Namjoon-ah used to buy those sugary things for him whenever he got sick.” He whispered and Hoseok felt a flash of satisfaction that he was finally taking this seriously.

"You're... _sure_ it was him?"

"It was Namjoon." Hoseok said firmly. 

Seokjin dropped his head to rest on his hands.

"It's been... five _years_." He finally managed to say. "Five years." He repeated. "And he turns up now."

He raised his head to look at Hoseok. "What happened? Did you... talk?"

The dance gave a terse shrug.

“It's funny." He said. "All the questions, the speeches, the yelling, just flew out of my head. I don't think I said more than a few sentences.” 

Seokjin huffed a laugh, eyes still wide. “How… how did he look?”

Hoseok considered the question, closing his eyes. “Tired.” He admitted finally. 

“He looked tired.”

* * *

There was a clatter as Jihye swept into the back and slammed her server tray down on the metal counter.

Namjoon set down the two waters he was preparing on his own tray and glanced at her. “Everything okay?”

“No.” His coworker ground out. “Our _favorite_ customer is back."

The other server within earshot groaned and Namjoon barely managed not to do the same.

Their "favorite customer," Shiwoo, was the beloved nephew of the owner, who doted on him endlessly for reasons lost to Namjoon. The man was always using his position to demand special service and free drinks for him and his friends. He would make a scene if they didn’t give it to him, or even worse, he’d complain to his uncle, who’d fired several good employees over his nephew's accusations of bad service.

"Brought a party of fifteen." Jihye ground out. "All hammered. No reservation. Demanding to be seated immediately, of course. We have to shuffle half the floor to make space for them.”

Ah, just _great_.

“Do you want me to take them?” He offered, hefting up his tray.

Jihye hesitated but shook her head. “It’s okay. It’ll be a hassle dealing with them but…” She flashed a small grin. “... drunk people usually tip well.”

She disappeared out of the swinging door and Namjoon caught a burst of rowdy sound. 

Yep, that was Shiwoo alright. 

He squared his shoulders and followed her out, deftly navigating through the dining area to deliver the drinks. 

The hostesses were whispering about something when he walked up to grab a requested extra menu for a table, their faces brighter than he’d ever seen them. He snagged a menu from the stack and mentally resolved to not get involved in whatever drama was going on tonight. 

Then one whispered, “I can’t believe it’s really _them!”_

Despite himself, he stilled, curiosity getting the better of him. 

“What’s going on?” He asked hesitantly. 

The girl glanced around, confirming the manager was out of sight, before she leaned in. “We’ve got _celebrities_ here tonight! Oh my god, it’s such an honor. I wonder if they’d let us get a picture, we could frame it and put it on the _wall.”_

The other one shook her head regretfully. “We didn’t realize, and they had to wait for like _forty-five minutes_ because of..." She trailed off, thankfully wise enough to realize the walls often had ears in their restaurant. Namjoon got the gist anyway: _Shiwoo._ "Thank god we finally recognized them. I placed them in the special occasion room so they don’t have to sit out here in all the chaos.”

“The back room?” Namjoon’s brow furrowed. “We don’t have anyone assigned to that table.”

The girl’s eyes went wide. “I thought you knew. They’ve been there for nearly fifteen minutes already.”

Namjoon cursed under his breath and darted for the back hall. 

Of course the table with celebrities had to be the _one_ table to get overlooked. _Shit, stars could be so impatient._ He hoped they didn’t complain to the boss. Then _everyone's_ jobs would be on the line.

He slid open the door to the special occasion room, hoping the hostesses had at least maintained the presence of mind to give them menus and light the candle. _Nope._ Two men were sitting there in the very dim room, an empty table in front of them. And they were clearly not happy.

“I was beginning to think you forgot about us.” One of them said, his voice strangely familiar.

Namjoon didn’t waste time to think about it, bowing deeply before he was even fully in the door.

“I apologize.” He told the floor. “We’d be happy to provide you with drinks on the house.”

He straightened up, quickly handing over the menus and pulling out his pad of paper, mostly to have something as a barrier to their ire. 

“Can I get you started with any beverages?” He looked to the one who’d spoken, his pencil ready.

The man was gaping at him, and Namjoon’s eyes finally adjusted enough for his features to resolve into clarity instead of just dim shapes.

_Jimin. In a blue sweatshirt._

Namjoon’s notepad and pen slipped from his hands and clattered to the floor. 

“Is this a prank?” The other one demanded, and Namjoon finally registered Taehyung there, _Taehyung_ who was so _old_ now, his face devoid of any lingering baby fat, an _adult_.

The man shoved his chair back with a screech and Namjoon briefly gaped at his new height. He could only watch, frozen, as Taehyung twisted, looking to the corners of the room as if for hidden cameras.

“Because this isn’t funny. Not at all.” He sounded _furious,_ eyes blazing and heartbreakingly _wet_ as he brought his gaze back to Namjoon.

“This isn’t a prank. No hidden cameras.” The elder stammered, holding up his hands placatingly. They were shaking slightly so he dropped them again, clasping them in front of his stomach. “I, um, I work here. I’ll just… get another server for you. Enjoy your meal.” He bowed once more, snatched his notepad and pen off the floor, and ducked out of the room before they could move. 

_Shit. Jimin and Taehyung. Taehyung and Jimin. In his restaurant._

His heart was pounding as he hurried to the back, taking refuge by the drink machines.Jihye emerged from the kitchen, tray empty, and he darted forward, pulling her to the side and out of the way.

“Yah, what are you doing?" She complained. "I've got three tables waiting.” 

He threw a panicked glance behind him, half expecting the two idols to have followed him out.

“I need you to take the special occasion table.” He said quickly.

“What? Namjoon, I’m already handling Shiwoo’s party.” She hit him lightly on his shoulder. “Don’t get nervous just because they’re famous. Just do your job. They’ll tip well!”

“I’ll trade with you, _please_.”

Her face turned somber as she took in his pale face, shaking hands. 

“Please.” Namjoon repeated. _He couldn’t stand there and explain the house specials while Taehyung glared at him like he wanted to break Namjoon’s ribs, and Jimin treated him like a hostile stranger._

Jihye caught his elbow, tone urgent and furious. “Namjoon, did they say something to you?”

He waved a hand, trying for a smile. “It’s nothing.” 

She scowled anyway, reading between the lines. 

“I hate celebrities. So _entitled_. Like they don’t think normal people are humans too. They think they can harass anyone they want, _no,_ I’ll call manager-nim and kick them out-”

“No, no, no!” Namjoon snagged her sleeve before she could march off. He didn’t doubt that she could make it happen, but she _and_ the manager would undoubtedly get fired if their boss discovered they had kicked out _idols._ “I’m okay, really.”

Jihye studied him for a long moment, and he tried his best to look unbothered. He had a feeling he failed. 

But she finally shrugged. “If you say so. But just say the word and they’re out on the street... I’ll trade tables with you. But you owe me.” She warned.

Namjoon couldn’t help but smile for real, shoulders dropping in relief. “Deal. Thank you, Jihye _thank you._ "

She tore a page out of her notepad and handed it over. "These are the drink orders for Shiwoo's table. Did the _celebs_ order yet?" She said the word like it was distasteful and Namjoon hoped she didn't treat Taehyung and Jimin too coldly, if only for the sake of keeping her job.

"We didn't get around to it."

"I'll go there now." She looked determined as she stalked off, a glint in her eye that made Namjoon nervous. 

He took a moment to lean against the counter and breathe, trying to slow his pounding heart. 

He’d been too optimistic, hoping all these years that his members had just moved on. That somehow, they’d understood. 

But of course they were probably angry. He’d left without even saying goodbye. 

Taehyung… Taehyung had never looked at him like that before, dark and furious. Taehyung had never looked at another member that way. Not even when they’d fought and gotten angry at each other and not talked for days. It seemed like… _hatred._

Taehyung and Jimin. Jimin and Taehyung. And _Hoseok,_ barely three days ago. _What the hell was going on? Was the universe conspiring against him?_

Namjoon straightened his uniform, smoothed his hair, and fixed his face into his pleasant expression before he stepped out into the dining room again. 

_How are you liking your food? - Can I get you a refill on that? - No, I'm sorry, we don't serve pizza, we're a fine dining restaurant. -Congratulations on your engagement, can I interest you two in some champagne? - Here's our dessert menu. - Your food will be out shortly, I'm sorry for the delay. - I'll be right back with the check. -_

He wished they’d chosen somewhere else to eat tonight. At least then he could still naively believe that they didn’t hate him. He could remember them the way things had _used_ to be.

 _It didn’t matter._ He told himself. _It didn’t matter._ He’d probably never see them again. 

This was just... a fluke of the universe. Keeping him on his toes. 

Nearly an hour and a half later, his skin prickled as he served Shiwoo’s group their desserts, neatly sidestepping one man’s drunken attempt at a hug. 

When he turned, smiling politely at Shiwoo’s new girlfriend, who was demanding another drink despite needing to have been cut off about an hour ago, he caught a glimpse of Jimin and Taehyung by the door, shrugging on their coats, their eyes on Namjoon. 

Taehyung still looked angry, but also… confused. Jimin's face was blank as he met Namjoon’s eyes, but his expression pinched slightly when Namjoon had to slide a drunk customer’s hand off his shoulder.

The next time Namjoon got a chance to look up, they were gone. 

Jihye caught him later in the kitchen as their shifts were winding down.

“Those were the nosiest celebrities I’ve ever met." She said, as they waited for the finishing touches to be put on a few desserts. "They kept asking me questions about you.”

Namjoon stiffened, looking quickly at her. She just smiled and patted his arm.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t tell them a thing.” 

A bit of the tension drained out of him at that. “Did they tip well?”

Her smile turned into a grin. “Yeah. So well in fact that, after we get off, drinks are on me.”

They shifted out of the way so that one of the dishwashers could wheel a cart of dishes past.

“Ah, not tonight. Babysitter can only stay till nine.” 

Jihye didn't look bothered at him turning down yet another invitation. She was one of the few coworkers who seemed to understand what being a single parent entailed and the reality that he didn't often have time for a social life. The others had stopped asking after a while, assuming he considered himself above them or wasn't interested in friendship. But she still made a point of inviting him, every time. 

“Aww, say hi to the little munchkin for me. You’ll have to bring her over soon to say hi.”

Namjoon smiled, but carefully didn’t agree to anything. “I’m sure she’d love all of you.”

“Aish,” Jihye huffed. “Stop stalling and just bring her over. You know Hiu will feed her a sample of every dessert in the kitchen when she finally appears.”

Minsuh was waiting there just inside the door, her coat already on, when Namjoon let himself into the apartment. The college student slid the pack of flashcards she'd been flipping through into her pocket and slung her bag over her shoulder as Namjoon removed his shoes.

They greeted each other quietly.

"Hayun's in bed." She reported, keeping her voice low.

“Asleep?”

“Probably not." Minsuh admitted. "She wanted to see you. Said she can’t go to sleep without hearing from the ship’s First Mate. Something about course corrections for the exploration tomorrow.”

Namjoon gave a soft chuckle, glancing at the closed door on the other side of the living room. “Of course she did.”

“Sorry I have to leave early today, Mr. Kim. I hope it didn’t upset your schedule.”

She slid on her shoes while Namjoon stepped further into the room, sliding off his coat and taking out his wallet.

“Don’t worry about it." He assured her, counting out the correct number of bills and handing them over. "Good luck on your test. I’ll see you Friday.”

"Thanks Mr. Kim, have a good night!" She said, already hurrying in the directions of the stairs, clearly eager to get home to study.

He shut the door behind her, drawing the deadbolt, and exhaled a long breath, his shoulders slumping.

There was a creak of little feet on the wooden floor behind him.

“You’re early!” Hayun’s little voice shrieked, and a moment later a weight collided with his waist. 

He gathered energy he didn’t know he had and laughed. “Minsuh had a test she needs to go study for so Appa’s home early.”

Hayun beamed up at him, arms still wrapped around his waist. “Can Minsuh-unnie have a test every day? I want you to always come home this early!”

His smile dimmed slightly. “I know, hon. But I don’t think Minsuh would enjoy having tests every day…”

She made a face and he crouched down, tapping her nose. “But guess what, tomorrow Appa’s got the day off and we’ll get to spend it _all_ together!”

His daughter let out a yell of excitement, jumping up and down. _Namjoon's apologies to their neighbors._ “Really!?!”

“Yes, really." He laughed. "The whooolllle day just for you and me. But we need to get a good night of sleep to have energy for tomorrow. Are you ready for bed?”

She made a face, tugging on his sleeve. “Can you read me a story?”

“Just one.” He warned. “Choose carefully.”

Hayun darted off to her bedroom and he went to change out of his uniform. She was bouncing up and down when he came back and immediately shoved a book into his hands. It was her favorite nowadays, _Yeona's Adventures in the Stars._

Namjoon settled down to sit next to her on the bed. She plopped her stuffed rabbit in his lap. 

"Marshmallow wants read too." 

He patted the rabbit's fluffy head. "Happy to have you join us, Marshmallow."

He cracked the book open, but Hayun tugged it in her direction, determined to turn the pages for him.

“Appa, Eomma, and Yeona lived in a little pink house with a wide front yard and a white fence." He read quietly. "Every Friday, the three of them would go to the park down the street."

He waited for her to flip the page. "In the park, there was a big oak tree with thick branches. Yeona loved to climb up high in the oak tree. When she reached the top branches, she imagined she could see for miles!"

She beat him to it, flipping the page before he'd even finished the full sentence.

"One day, Yeona climbed higher than she ever had before and found something in the branches of the tree- a glowing star! ...”

Halfway through the book, Namjoon let his voice peter into silence. Hayun was slumped against his arm, little breaths huffing slowly in and out. Setting the book carefully aside, he slowly moved her head to rest on the pillow instead, tucking in Marshmallow next to her. 

Namjoon allowed himself a long moment to sit there in the dim silence, wishing he could fall asleep as well. But there was still work to be done. He sighed, kissed Hayun’s hair softly in goodnight, and climbed to his feet, shutting the door quietly behind him. 

The fridge was nearly empty, but he looked hopefully through the drawers anyway. There was a suspiciously unfamiliar block of cheese that Namjoon had no recollection of buying that had _definitely_ gone moldy but not much else. The last of the milk and eggs were needed for Hayun's breakfast in the morning, and he couldn't exactly drink the extra packets of soy sauce he kept accidentally bringing home from work and call it a meal. Namjoon sighed. _Grocery shopping was a priority for tomorrow, then._ He tossed the cheese in the trash and settled a granola bar instead.

Taking a seat at the tiny kitchen table, he cracked open his laptop and checked over his agenda. At night, when he didn’t have an evening shift, he worked from home as a translator for written work: articles, new sites, even the occasional academic paper. There were a couple of assignments sitting in his inbox that he hadn’t had time to work on over the past couple days, and their deadlines were coming up. 

_Guess he was in for a long night._

It was kinda funny, in a strange sort of way, he knew. _It’s important to get sleep_ \- he’d tell Hayun- when on average he probably got half the recommended amount. _Eat healthy to stay well_ \- he’d tell Hayun- while he skipped meals to save money. _Stay in school_ \- he’d tell Hayun- when he’d dropped out of college. _Be honest about your emotions_ \- he’d tell Hayun- fighting to stay cheerful when he really wanted to shout or cry and sleep for a week.

Maybe that made him a hypocrite, he didn't know. Or maybe that just made him a parent.

Sue him for wanting better for his child than he had. 

* * *

The door jingled shut behind Hoseok and Seokjin, cutting off the noise of the street outside. They hadn’t been able to get back to the convenience store for nearly three days because of their schedules, and every day had left Hoseok more antsy than the last. 

There were too many what-ifs knocking around in his head. _What if he really had imagined the entire thing? What if he'd just fallen asleep on the bus and had such a vivid dream that he'd thought it was real? What if Namjoon disappeared again? Up and ran now that Hoseok had found him? And they never tracked him down again?_

Seokjin didn't have much patience for his worries, especially as the scenarios grew increasingly dramatic - _No, Namjoon was not going to be whisked away by the government before they could see him again-he's not in witness protection-why would he still be going by Kim Namjoon if he was-_ but agreed to come along even though it was eleven p.m. and they should be back at the dorms recovering from an exhausting day. The elder didn't say it, but it was clear he wanted to see Namjoon just as much as Hoseok did. 

There was a girl with a gloomy expression at the front register, counting out small piles of change. She glanced up when they entered but didn't engage and Hoseok realized after a moment she was reciting the change totals under her breath to not lose count. 

He lingered for a moment looking at the front displays, hoping Namjoon would emerge from the back.

“Namjoon-ah works here?” Seokjin said, his brow wrinkled. He slid an empty wrapper to the side of the aisle with his shoe, distinctly unimpressed. 

Hoseok just nodded, shifting his gaze to the employee. She stopped muttering as she finished with a pile, typing quick numbers into a calculator and jotting down something on a piece of paper. 

“Pardon me,” He said before she could start again, walking up to the counter. “Is there a Kim Namjoon that works here?”

The girl's disinterest slipped away and she narrowed her eyes. “Is he in trouble?” 

“No, no, nothing like that." Hoseok assured, forcing a smile. "Just, is he here today?”

Her shoulders relaxed, though she still looked skeptical. “No.”

Hoseok fought to keep his smile from slipping. “Can you tell me when he’ll be in again?”

“I… don’t think I should share that information.” She said slowly.

Her brow furrowed as she took in his face. Her eyes flickered to Seokjin behind him, and then back to Hoseok, and a familiar awed expression came over her face.

“Are you… J-Hope? And Jin?” She stammered. 

Hoseok managed not to wince, hoping there was no one else in the store to overhear. 

“Yes, hello.” He said, giving a small wave. “Are you Namjoon’s coworker, who made the playlist?”

The girl gave a frantic nod. _Definitely a fan, then._

Hoseok tapped at his leg, his brain stalling for something to say. Thankfully, Seokjin stepped forward, taking over.

“Always exciting to meet a fan!” The elder spoke up, smiling. “Would you like a photo?” 

The girl nodded again, looking lost for words. 

They took a quick selfie, Seokjin holding her phone. Hoseok managed a genuine smile, throwing up finger hearts. He was thankful for the fans _really,_ but half his mind was still focused on _where was Namjoon._ He glanced towards the back again, wondering if there was a manager or something he could ask. _Or Seokjin could be the distraction while he snuck in the back to track down a work schedule- no, wait, that was a horrible idea, practically asking for a lawsuit._

“It was so nice to meet you.” Seokjin was saying. "Take care of yourself." Hoseok realized he had missed part of the conversation, smiling again and nodding quickly to try to cover it up. 

“Thank you for supporting us.” He added, giving one last wave as they headed for the door. 

The girl almost seemed to have stars in her eyes, but she snapped out of her daze in time to call out.

“Wait. Namjoon-ssi...” The girl hesitated, her fingers tapping against the counter. “Are you guys really… _friends…_ with him?”

“Old friends.” Seokjin said, easily dodging telling a lie. “We’d like to get back in touch.”

The girl glanced towards the back and then pulled a clipboard out from under the counter, flipping through it.

“He usually works the night shift during the work week." She told them, voice so quiet he almost missed it. "But he doesn’t have any more shifts this week. He’s probably at the restaurant.”

“The restaurant?” Hoseok asked. 

“Yeah, he works at a restaurant too.” She looked regretful. “I’m sorry, I don’t know which one.”

“That’s fine, don’t worry. You’ve been a big help.” Seokjin assured her, though Hoseok’s feelings were much more cynical. They barely knew _anything._ “Have a good night!”

“You too!” She said faintly, staring after them in shock. 

_They barely knew anything at all._

A block later, Seokjin had to tug at his arm, tearing him out of his spiraling thoughts. 

“Can we slow down? I won’t have to go to the gym tomorrow at this rate.” He said, giving a tense chuckle.

Hoseok just huffed, trying to keep his frustration from spilling over.

“We’ll find him again, Hoseok-ah.” Seokjin said quietly. “We know where he works.”

But Hoseok couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe they wouldn’t. That maybe it would be another five years before they had another chance encounter like that one. After all, who said Namjoon had even wanted to see _them_? The man knew _they_ knew where he worked now, no one could stop him from avoiding them. Something settled heavy in Hoseok's chest. 

“Let’s just go home.” He said tiredly. "The others are probably wondering where we are." 

Seokjin sighed but started walking again. 

Hoseok paused on the sidewalk to look back, his gaze lingering on the bright sign of the convenience store, the flashing open sign. The only solid thing they had on Namjoon in five years.

_He'd be back. And he'd run into Namjoon again eventually... even if he had to sneak in through the back door._

* * *

Jimin was watching him out of the corner of his eye, his fingers tapping on the steering wheel. 

“Taehyung-ah-” He said hesitantly.

Taehyung's eyes were fixed on the red traffic light. “We’re not telling them.”

The other boy gave a frustrated sigh, letting his head fall back against the seat. “They’d want to know.”

“Hyungs are so busy right now. The last thing they need is _this._ ” Taehyung said bitterly. He flexed his fingers, trying to ease the anger that felt rooted in his bones. “The last thing _we_ need is this.” 

It’d been nearly a year since the last mention of Namjoon, from a disastrous fan sign, where a girl had asked a panicked Jungkook if they kept in touch with Namjoon and were still friends. Yoongi had been forced to take over, directing the fan’s attention elsewhere, giving a useless platitude about wanting to respect Namjoon's privacy when the truth of the matter was no one had any idea where the man was. 

Most of ARMY had learned years ago that mentioning Namjoon was off limits, when the remaining members continually deflected or just plain ignored inquiries about him. The more observant fans had picked up on the bitterness in their expressions when questions about him came up on Vlive or at fansigns and liked to theorize about Namjoon's hasty departure. Taehyung couldn't bring himself to care. 

The speculation among the media that Namjoon’s parting had been less than pleasant had remained unconfirmed rumors for years. Management had been incredibly careful in the immediate aftermath, giving vague statements to satisfy the fans' curiosity. Articles speculating what could have happened were rampant for the first few weeks, but that eventually died down as well. A lot of their new fans didn’t even seem to know they'd ever had a seventh member.

Taehyung was glad they had Sejin-nim now. He’d never quite forgiven Geonwu for letting Namjoon void his contract and leave without telling any of them. But he couldn’t hold the manager responsible. After all, Namjoon’s choices were his own. 

Geonwu had _tried_ to convince their ex-leader otherwise, anyway, done his best to stall Namjoon’s decisions, have him talk it over with the rest of them. But Namjoon… had been adamant. 

"Tae-"

"Light's green." He interrupted, and Jimin muffled a rare curse as a car behind them honked. "And we're _not_ telling them." 

Jimin threw up one hand, exasperated. "We can't _not_ tell them we ran into _Namjoon-ah_ -"

And Taehyung's barely controlled anger finally bubbled over.

"He's ruined enough for us, don't you think?" He yelled, startling the other into silence. "Do you really want to give him a chance to waltz all over our emotions again- to drudge up the shittiest time of our careers? All for what? Someone who couldn't care less and left us?"

_After five years, they'd cross paths and Namjoon hadn't even said anything, hadn't explained or apologized, he'd just had the audacity not to recognize them and then run away, giving them a different server so he didn't even have to face them, face what he'd done._

Taehyung twisted in his seat so he was facing Jimin, dropping his voice to a harsh whisper. "Do you really want to do that to Kookie?" He demanded. "You _know_ he's just started opening up again. This could ruin all of that."

Jimin was silent for a long time, his eyes fixed on the road. Several blocks later, he finally let out a sigh, brushing one hand through his hair.

"Okay." He said quietly. "Okay, we won't tell them."

Taehyung slumped back in his seat, turning his gaze back towards the street.

"Thank you." He muttered.

For several minutes he just watched the light poles loop by outside the window, listened to the ticking of the turn signal as Jimin changed lanes. 

“Remember... he’s a footnote.” 

Taehyung dragged his eyes away from the window. Jimin's face was determined, hands clenched around the steering wheel.

It was something they'd said years ago, a phrase they'd held tight to over these years. It didn't really help in any way that mattered, didn't do anything to minimize the gaping wound Namjoon had made when he left, but they'd both pretend it did. Pretend the man had never really mattered to them anyway. 

“A footnote.” Taehyung repeated.

He leaned forward, flicking on the radio. "Want to play who can guess the song fastest?" He said brightly.

_Namjoon... Namjoon was just a footnote, a tiny, bitter, footnote on their path to success._

That didn’t need to change now.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mysteriously steps out of a shadowy forest, "... hello again."

Maybe Hoseok running into Namjoon had jinxed them, Seokjin thought wryly. He knew it went against all logic. But nonetheless, things hadn’t been the same since. 

The eldest hadn’t seen Hoseok so off kilter in years. He was distracted, heading back to the convenience store any free nights they got, almost obsessed with running into Namjoon again.

And Taehyung and Jimin had been different since last week as well, arguing behind closed doors about something Seokjin was frankly too tired to ask about. Not when he was already trying to reign Hoseok in. 

_Some leader the rapper was being._

_No._ Seokjin shook the bitter thought away, knowing it was just his frustration with the whole situation emerging. Hoseok hadn’t asked for the responsibility to drop on his shoulders, and he’d been doing a damn fine job for five years now. He was allowed to have an off week. It wasn’t his fault Namjoon had dropped unexpectedly back into his life. 

_If he’d even seen Namjoon at all._

Seokjin wanted to believe him, he really did. Wanted to believe the frenzied passion in Hoseok’s eyes as he tried to convince Seokjin that it had been real. And they _had_ talked to that store clerk after all. But Seokjin… he just couldn’t bring himself to believe it that easily. Namjoon had disappeared into thin air five years ago, and hadn't been seen since then, not once, not in a single blurry photo in a gossip magazine, or a post on social media. Not even the fans, well, the ones that remembered him, had captured any images of him of him over the years. 

They'd come to the conclusion he must of moved out of Seoul completely, and for years, Seokjin had half expected him to surface at some American entertainment company dropping a new album as the solo rapper he'd always wanted to be. 

For him to just randomly show up now in Seoul, out of the blue, and just happen to run into Hoseok?

It was… suspicious to say the least.

Maybe it was a Namjoon look-alike who’d decided to capitalize on their connection and Hobi’s generous heart. If that was so, the imposter would find soon enough that BTS and Kim Namjoon didn’t have any lost love between them. It wouldn’t do this fraud any favors to claim to be Namjoon and certainly wouldn't get him any special treatment.

Seokjin had actually called the company to make sure they weren’t playing some sort of long prank.

Their manager, Sejin, was insistent the company wasn't behind it. He seemed just as shocked as Seokjin and Hoseok had been. 

“The company hasn’t been in contact with him since he left.” Sejin told him. “And you know I wouldn’t do that to you. I know how badly him leaving affected you all.”

Sejin did know, maybe more than anyone. He’d been the one to pick up the shattered pieces the former leader had left behind, having been hired a month after Namjoon’s disappearance when Geonwu was offered a promotion and left his position as their manager. Sejin had never met the mysterious Namjoon, but he’d witnessed the way his leaving had almost torn them all apart. 

“Whatever’s going on, it’s not us, I promise you.”

Seokjin sighed, closing his eyes and digging his fingers into temples. “This is not a good time for all this to be happening.”

“I don’t know, Seokjin.” Sejin hesitated, continued more quietly. “How many times did you wish you could just talk to him? Maybe it's a chance to finally get closure.”

Seokjin let that thought turn over in his mind for a while after they hung up. 

Maybe this was the universe’s apology. 

If it was, well, maybe Seokjin didn’t want it. 

* * *

Namjoon gazed in dismay at the building in front of him. He’d just followed the address, hadn’t even thought twice about it. But here he was, staring up at the shining Big Hit logo.

 _Damn._ He shouldn’t have taken this order. 

Part of him thought about just turning around… but he’d already marked the order as picked up and on its way, and he _really_ couldn’t afford to lose this job.

It had been five years; surely no one would recognize him. It could be _anyone_ in the building ordering take out, the social media team or even the cleaning staff and there had probably been a lot of staff changes since he'd been around. Not to mention he'd knew he looked different (who'd have thought he'd grow even taller?). No one would remember him. He’d just drop the food at reception and leave.

Namjoon got off his delivery bike and took a long, steadying breath, trying to keep his eyes off the huge logo. Then, before he could hesitate longer and let the food get ever colder, he snagged his heavy bag and marched inside the doors. 

There were security guards seated by the entrance, who checked the name on the order and let Namjoon pass. He bee-lined for reception, but before he could get there, someone called out across the lobby.

"Ah, hello, I'm the one who ordered."

Namjoon sent one last longing look at reception and any chance of a quick escape, and changed paths to walk over to the man instead. The employee was standing next to the elevators, a stack of heavy boxes in his hands. He looked just a few years older than Namjoon himself, and as Namjoon watched he shifted the boxes, looking conflictedly between the food and his heavy load.

“We’re in a bit of a rush here today." the man admitted. "If you don’t mind, could you help me carry all this up?” 

Namjoon wanted to refuse. He _should_ refuse. The more people he saw in the building the higher the chances of coming across someone who recognized him. But the employee was clearly working hard, and if Namjoon said no, then the man would have to make two trips. Besides... Namjoon didn’t have any other orders at the moment...

“I don’t mind.” he found himself saying.

The man’s shoulders slumped with relief and he smiled. “Thank you so much. Right this way.”

He scanned a badge at the elevator and Namjoon, despite the growing pit of anxiety in his chest, managed to feel some relief that at least Big Hit was no longer housed in the same building it had been five years ago. The memories would be overwhelming otherwise. It was a little uncomfortable seeing the posters of his old members on every wall, but he’d be joking himself if he didn’t admit their faces were plastered across most of Seoul anyway. 

And none of it compared to the experiences that had been actually _running into_ Jimin and Taehyung and Hoseok, anyway. _Shit, what if he ran into them again today?_

He didn’t even notice his hands nervously tapping on his delivery bag until the other man glanced over. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked you. I’m sure you’re in a hurry, it’s rush hour.” The man looked so genuinely apologetic that Namjoon hurried to reassure him.

“No, no, it’s okay, I don’t have any other orders right now. Besides, I’m sure you’re busier than me.”

The man looked surprised at that. "Well, I don't know about that, but yes, things have been hectic around here recently."

The elevator doors dinged open and Namjoon followed the man down a long hall to another room. Everything here was so sleek, silver and white, and perfectly new, and absolutely nothing like the run-down building Namjoon remembered, where the ceiling tiles would leak when it rained.

“If you could set it on the desk…” 

Namjoon obliged, though he struggled to find a clear space among the masses of paper and notes scattered across the surface. The man set down the boxes in one of the corner and stood, brushing himself off. 

“Thank you again.” the man said, turning back to Namjoon. And then he paused. His brow furrowed. “You look very familiar. Have we met before?”

Namjoon froze for too long of a moment, panic beginning to thrum in his veins. “I don’t believe so. I don’t remember meeting.” he managed to say. _Not a lie._

But the man didn’t look convinced. He tilted his head. “Are you sure? I really feel like we’ve met, it’s uncanny.” Then he snapped his fingers. “Are you a fan by any chance? Maybe I've seen you at events.”

“I’m… not really a fan." _Just a former member._ "I mean, their music is great, but I don’t really… follow BTS.” Namjoon said awkwardly. 

The man seemed to pick up on his discomfort, looking apologetic. “Oh it’s fine, sorry to put you in an awkward position. You just look so familiar."

Namjoon gave a helpless sort of shrug and a strained smile, unsure of what else to say. 

The man shook his head, almost to clear it, and smiled. “I’m sure you have places to be. I’ll show you to the elevators.”

“It’s all right, I remember where they are." Namjoon offered. "You probably have a lot to do.”

The man followed him out into the hallway with a wry smile. “I’m afraid I have to, for safety reasons.”

Namjoon blinked. “Oh, of course.”

He was actually a bit relieved about the level of security he'd observed in the building. He'd heard plenty of horror stories about rabid fans before he'd left the industry. At least he knew the others were being kept safe.

The elevator doors slid open.

"Have a good day."

"You too." Namjoon said, joining one other occupant of the elevator.

He checked his phone as the door slid shut, relieved to see that it hadn't been too long. 

_He’d made it. No one had recognized him. All he had to do was walk back out of the lobby now._

The other occupant of the elevator gasped suddenly and Namjoon almost jumped out of his skin. He snuck out a glance out of the corner of his eye and found that it was kid, who was gawking at him. 

Namjoon fixed his eyes on the metal wall in front of him, holding his bag a little tighter. _He was so close, just two minutes._ He could feel the kid still staring at him, unabashed.

“Rap Monster?”

...

_Oh, shit._

The boy actually tried to _bow_.

“Rap Monster sunbaenim.” the kid stammered. “Hello. I’m Huening Kai.”

And Namjoon actually winced; it had been so long since he’d been called that.

He thought about denying it, but didn't think he'd get very far when there was such clear recognition on the kid's face. He tried for a smile instead. It probably came off as horribly strained

“It’s nice to meet you, Huening Kai.” he said, nodding at him.

The boy was young, but his hair was styled and he had makeup on, so he probably wasn’t just one of the employee’s kids wandering around. _A trainee then? Or a member of the new group?_ Namjoon vaguely remembered there being a big announcement in the news about it a while back, about BigHit debuting another boy group. _Together X Tomorrow?_

“We used to watch your debut stage all the time!" the kid said, tripping over his words a bit. "I didn’t know you still came by, I haven’t seen you around before!"

“Oh, no. I’m uh.” Namjoon felt his face flush slightly, motioning down at his uniform.

The boy’s eyes went wide.

“You’re… a delivery man?” he stammered.

Namjoon nodded, barely managed to hide a grimace. That was probably not what the kid wanted to hear. _Yep, idol turned delivery man. A truly glorious career progression._

Huening Kai didn’t seem to know what to say after that, so Namjoon took pity on him, clearing his throat. 

“How are you enjoying the idol life?”

“Oh… it’s very exciting.” Kai said slowly, giving a lopsided smile that Namjoon recognized as _this is the answer expected of me, so here it is._

“And very stressful.” Namjoon filled in the unspoken words. 

The kid glanced at him, surprised. “Is that… why you left?”

Namjoon grimaced. _Okay, he should have seen that coming._ He hesitated, but shook his head. 

This kid- _aish-_ he looked so _young,_ like Jungkook had been when they'd first started out, still coming into his own, and having to deal with the crazinesses of adjusting to being an idol to boot.

The elevators door slid open to reveal the lobby. Namjoon stepped forward, and then felt himself stop, turn back to the kid who was still inside. The kid who had recently entered an extremely difficult industry, with new challenges at every turn. 

“Make sure you take care of yourself.” he couldn’t stop himself from saying quickly. _It wasn’t his fault the kid looked like he needed someone looking out for him._ “This industry is very stressful. Eat well and don’t overwork yourself. You’ll perform at your best when you’re healthy.”

The elevator doors beeped at him to get out of the way and Namjoon stepped back.

The boy bowed jerkily, gaping, still in awe. “Thank you, sunbaenim.” 

Namjoon winced again. “Ah no need to call me-” But the elevator doors had already slid closed. 

It was only when he was back on his bike, still reeling as he headed to pick up the next order a few streets over, that Namjoon realized he missed the chance to ask the boy not to say anything. Well… maybe the kid would forget he saw him.

Yeah, the kid would probably just forget.

* * *

“Namjoon was _here?”_

Seokjin rested a hand on his forehead, dropping into one of the nearby chairs.

“About ten minutes ago.” Sejin confirmed. "Kai-ah recognized him in the elevator."

Hoseok rounded on their dongsaengs. “What did he say to you?” 

Kai was hunched in on himself, wide eyes flickering around the room. Seokjin bet the boy was regretting ever mentioning Namjoon’s presence to his own manager. _Tomorrow X Together's_ eldest, Yeonjun, had an arm wrapped around him, but the older boy didn’t look any more at ease.

“He told me to take care of myself,” the maknae said hesitantly, straightening slightly. “And that this industry is very stressful so I should eat well, and stay well rested to perform at my best.”

Hoseok looked blindsided for a long moment and then shook his head sharply. “That's... that's all? What… what does that mean? Why would he come _here_ now?” 

Kai actually took a stumbling step back and Seokjin had had enough, pushing to his feet. 

“Yah Hoseok-ah," he scolded. "Stop terrorizing our dongsaengs. They had no way of knowing what’s going on.”

“And what exactly is it that’s going on?” a dry voice asked from the doorway. 

Yoongi was standing there, eyebrows raised at them. 

The whole room froze for a long moment, even the TXT members picking up that they shouldn't answer that. 

“Nothing, nothing’s going on.” Hoseok said finally, pasting on a smile. “We were just discussing some choreography.”

Yoongi narrowed his eyes but didn’t seem to care enough to push it. 

“Okay then. Enjoy your… choreography.”

The man ambled away down the hall and Hoseok hurried over to close the door. 

Sejin rubbed a hand down his face. “I’m sorry, I was the one who was with him the longest, even had a conversation, and I had no idea it was him. He looked familiar, but he had on a mask and a hat. I don’t know how _Kai-ah_ managed to recognize him in the first place.”

“Hero worship pays off.” Seokjin said dryly.

Yeonjun cleared his throat, shifting on him feet when everyone's attention turned to him. “If you don't mind me asking... what _is_ going on?” 

“Just… some personal matters between old friends.” Seokjin assured him, waving it off. “We’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t mention Namjoon-ah’s visit to anyone.”

“Of… of course.”

The dongsaengs had schedules to attend to, Sejin reminded them, herding them out the door, leaving Seokjin alone to deal with a frustrated Hoseok.

“I’ve been back there _four times_ and he’s never there, and he just shows up in our _building?_ And I _miss_ it?” the man snapped.

Seokjin really needed some ibuprofen for the headache he was developing. “You couldn’t have known, Hoseok.” 

Hoseok let out a frustrated huff of breath, slumped on the desk. He turned hurt eyes to Seokjin. “Why the hell would he even come here?”

“Sejin said he was a delivery man.” _Why'd he'd chosen to deliver to Big Hit of all places, after all this time, was a question Seokjin didn't have the answer to._

“Namjoon-ah? A delivery man?” Hoseok said, incredulous.

“He's working in a convenience store, remember? It’s probably his second job.”

“But why is he working in a convenience store and as a delivery man, he’s a _producer_ and a _songwriter._ He could be working at any company in Seoul.” Hoseok said.

Seokjin shrugged, feeling the uncomfortable twinge in his chest that usually suggested something was not quite right. “I don’t know, Hobi. I just don’t know.”

* * *

Jimin tugged his hat a little lower, and glanced around the street one last time before he entered the dim lobby of the restaurant. 

He breathed a silent sigh of relief when the hostess didn’t recognize him. He’d gotten lucky today, making it all the way here without being spotted by fans. He’d have to hope his luck would hold up for another fews hours at least. 

“I’ll show you to your table.” the hostess told him, stepping towards the main eating area.

Jimin put on his most charming expression. “Actually, if it’s not a problem, could I sit over there?”

He pointed at a table that had a good view of the whole restaurant, but was tucked away out of the general path. He’d been sure to show up early, so there weren’t a lot of patrons seated already.

To his relief, the woman agreed, and soon he was settled down with a menu. But Jimin didn't choose this place for the food.

After a few minutes, it became clear that the person he was looking for wasn’t working the current shift.

_That’s okay. Jimin could wait._

The idol knew the waitstaff was getting annoyed at him for staying so long, their repeated pointed questions about whether he wanted his check were clear enough. But Jimin just continued to play dumb. He’d make sure to leave a huge tip when he finally did leave, but he _needed_ to stay. So he just kept ordering new food. The plates were beginning to pile up. 

It was an hour and a half into his stay, when he was considering just giving up, that Namjoon finally appeared. 

From his secluded spot, he watched as his ex-leader bustled around, taking orders and delivering food and charming customers over and over again throughout the night.

There was a dicey moment when a clearly intoxicated man got angry about his order being overcooked, and it looked like he was going to make a scene. But Namjoon used the mediation skills that Jimin remembered so well from when they were all angsty teens and Namjoon was resolving disagreements between them almost every day. He managed to talk the man down from demanding to speak to the kitchen staff andcomplaining to the owner. After a little bit of free wine on the house, it seemed like the man might actually leave a _good_ review.

But Jimin’s seat meant that he also saw the way Namjoon's smile slid off his face when he stepped into the back, the way he rubbed at the deep circles beneath his eyes. The way he closed his eyes for a brief moment of rest as he waited for receipts to print, and then had to blink himself awake again.

Jimin wasn’t sure why he’d come back. Maybe to get answers without Taehyung here to start yelling at their ex-leader. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it now. Not when Namjoon looked so exhausted. 

He paid the bill and left without a word. 

* * *

Jungkook wasn’t sure what was wrong with his hyungs, 

Things hadn’t been this rocky since… well, since Namjoon had left. 

Jimin and Taehyung kept arguing behind closed doors and some of the anger that Jungkook remembered from the months after their first leader left had returned into Tae's eyes. It'd had been going on long enough that Jungkook was getting worried, and he would have gone to the older hyungs about it, except... they weren't any better. Hoseok kept disappearing in the evening, sometimes with Seokjin, sometimes without, but even when they were both at home, the two elders always seemed preoccupied with something else, whispering to each other when the others weren't around.

All four of them had just been… distant. 

Yoongi, of all people, seemed to be the only normal one.

That’s why Jungkook had found himself seeking solace in the rapper's studio several times over the past week, tired of listening to Jimin and Taehyung’s harsh whispers, tired of walking into Hoseok or Seokjin’s room with a question just to find they were gone again. 

It seemed like… no one wanted to be around the dorm anymore. No one wanted to be around _Jungkook._

He risked a glance at Yoongi, who was at his desk, eyes fixed on the track on his computer screen, head bobbing ever so slightly to whatever beat was thudding in his headphones. Jungkook leaned his head to rest on the arm of the couch, and brought his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. 

Everything in the studio just seemed so _normal._

How could… how could Yoongi not notice that everything was falling apart?

Because this is what it looked like for a team to fall apart right? Everyone deciding that they didn’t really want to be here anymore? Growing distant and cold and angry- until one day they just threw in the towel on BTS, and moved on to other, more interesting things, and never looked back? 

_But Namjoon hadn’t been like that at all,_ his traitorous brain whispered. Their former leader had been laughing and joking and making plans with them up until the very minute he’d walked out the door and never returned. 

Maybe that’s why it had hurt so much. They hadn’t even had a warning. He’d played them. All the way to the very end. _How long had he been lying to them?_

Yoongi slid off his headphones, tapping a fews keys, and sighed at the mess of his desk. He grabbed the three empty paper coffee cups and walked across the room to drop them in the trash can, humming to himself _as if their whole word wasn't falling apart._

And suddenly Jungkook couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Hyung…" he said, breaking the long silence. "Are we going to disband?”

Yoongi nearly tripped. His eyes were wide as he turned to look at Jungkook, trash forgotten.

“Do you mean, like, _soon?”_

Jungkook gave a miserable nod. 

“No, why would we- _no_." Yoongi sputtered, straightening up. "Where… where is this coming from, Jungkook?”

The maknae fixed his eyes on a wrinkled scrap of paper on the floor. 

“It’s just… no one’s around these days. And Jimin and Tae are arguing and Hobi and Seokjin have been distant, and it just seems like nobody wants to be here anymore.”

To Jungkook's frustration, tears were starting prick at his eyes. He swiped an angry hand across them, ducking his head to try to hide the motion from the elder.

"Jungkook-ah..." Yoongi trailed off, looking helpless. 

“I don’t want us to disband.” he whispered to the floor.

Yoongi finally unfroze, crossing the small studio to Jungkook's side and shoving the maknae's backpack out of the way so he could sit down next to him and wrap an arm around his shoulders.

Jungkook squeezed his eyes shut, because what if he didn't have this soon? _What if they all went their separate ways and there was no more running off to his hyungs for support, no more family dinners or movie nights, no music videos or albums. No more BTS._

He got a poke in the middle of his forehead. "Yah, are you even listening to me?"

"Sorry, hyung." Jungkook mumbled, forcing himself to tune back in when all he wanted to do was hide in face in Yoongi's sweatshirt for a bit and not think about it. _He was too old for that now._

“Kookie, we’re not going to disband." Yoongi said firmly, and Jungkook tried to believe him, he really did. "It’s just been an off couple of weeks but we’ve had plenty of off weeks, and we didn’t give up then, did we?”

Yoongi poked him again when he didn't respond and raised his eyebrows. "Did we?"

Jungkook finally shook his head.

“We’ll all hang in there and things will get good again, okay? Jimin-ah and Tae always work out their stuff eventually, and will go back to being best buds like there was never a problem." He rolled his eyes briefly. "And Hoseok-ah and Seokjin will get bored of whatever’s captured their attention these days. Bangtan comes first. They know that. We all know that.”

_Namjoon had been the one to say that, the very first time. It had been their mantra in the early days, the thing they all held into when the industry seemed to be against them at every turn, when they'd all thought about giving up for good. Bangtan came first, always._

_And still... Namjoon had been the one to betray that first._

_... Maybe they all would in the end._

“I just…" Jungkook whispered. "I don’t want to lose you guys, too.”

Yoongi’s arms tightened around him. “You won’t, Kook, I promise you won’t.”

Jungkook wasn't sure that was a promise his hyung would be able to keep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TXT wasn’t going to be in this fic, but they snuck in, what can I say?
> 
> I honestly can't remember right now if 'Bangtan first' is an actual thing they say or if it came from other fics. I think I've read it in a few but I can't figure out which ones. Otherwise I would link, my apologies!
> 
> This was a bit of a wait, I know, thanks for your patience! I was focused on finishing up a different WIP (and starting another one, but we won't mention that lol)


	4. Chapter 4

The door slammed and Jimin looked up from his phone to see Hoseok sliding off his shoes. 

“Welcome home-”

The man disappeared down the hall without looking in his direction, the door to his bedroom slamming shut behind him. 

Jimin, sprawled on the couch, stared after the elder, surprised. "What's wrong with him?"

The front door opened and closed again, and Yoongi appeared in the entryway, kicking off his shoes. Jimin couldn't help but relax a little at the sight. It had been a while since they'd all been home at the same time, and things had felt strangely unsettled recently. Maybe one dinner with all of them was what they needed for things to go back to normal.

“Hey hyung, we were thinking about ordering take out tonight, do you have a preference-” 

The rapper cut him off with a sharp wave of his hand, and Jimin stilled, catching sight of the _fury_ on his face for the first time.

“We’re having a meeting in the living room.” he said, voice dark. “Right now.”

Jimin turned wide eyes to Seokjin, but the eldest just gave a helpless shrug, setting down his dish towel and joining the dancer on the couch. 

Yoongi crossed the room in three strides and stuck his head into the hall. 

“Jung Hoseok. Kim Taehyung. Group meeting, _now_.” he yelled.

Hoseok opened his door, looking annoyed, but the expression melted off his face at the sight of Yoongi’s ire. He scurried into the living room, Taehyung exiting his own room close behind. 

Yoongi waited until they were all seated on the couches, arms crossed tight over his chest as he surveyed them.

“I don’t know what the _hell_ is going on with all of you, but you need to figure it out, _now._ ”

Jimin gaped at him, baffled. 

"What are you talking about?" Hoseok asked, brow furrowed. 

“This constant distraction, the arguing with each other, heading off to who knows where? It’s not going to cut it. I don’t know if you all have forgotten it, but we’ve got a comeback coming up." he snapped. "Seems like Jungkook and I are the only ones who give a shit about it anymore.”

Jimin dropped his gaze to the carpet, shame curling in his stomach, and on the other couch, Taehyung shifted in his seat.

“I just had to convince Jungkook we’re not going to disband." Yoongi said, "Let’s not make me a liar.”

_What?_

Hoseok and Taehyung looked stricken, glancing at the closed bedroom door, and something heavy settled on Jimin's chest, _had he really been so distracted that he hadn't noticed their maknae's distress?_ Seokjin's face was shuttered, his eyes dark.

“He’s out right now.” Yoongi said gruffly, in response to their looks. “Not that any of you seems to have noticed he’s been spending half his days with me in the studio this past week as you all go do who knows what.”

_They'd made a mistake._

That much was clear, in Yoongi's anger. He'd never been one to hide his emotions, but he had mellowed a bit when Namjoon had disappeared. Seokjin hadn't missed the way the rapper had shifted to fill some of the gaping hole their original leader had left behind, becoming less of the aloof hyung and more stalwart, an unshakable force who would go against management for them, who would protect them. _Who wouldn't leave._

It had been a long time since he'd seen Yoongi really, _truly_ angry with his bandmates. He'd never stopped griping at their crazy antics, or getting frustrated when they got too far off track during recording, but that had never shaken any of them, not when they knew he didn't really mean it.

But this kind of anger? Yoongi was _furious_ at them for this, and Seokjin knew that meant that deep down, the rapper been truly shaken by Jungkook's words. They'd all had their days of doubt, but Jungkook... it was different for him. Seokjin knew he still had nightmares sometimes about them all leaving him. And for their talk to affect Yoongi like this? Their maknae must have been in a bad place.

Seokjin felt the desperate need to see Jungkook with his own two eyes, make sure he was okay.

“So figure your shit out before things get worse. I don’t want to have this conversation again.” Yoongi said, and turned for the door. 

Hoseok shifted, looking like he was about to burst. Seokjin shook his head sharply at him, but the man didn't catch the gesture, opening his mouth-

"Hoseok, _don't_ -" he tried to hiss but he was too late.

“I saw Namjoon.”

Seokjin grimaced, and then realized those words had been _two voices instead of one?_

Jimin was staring at Hoseok with wide eyes, mouth hanging open.

_No way._

Seokjin wanted to slam his own head into the wall. 

" _You_ saw Namjoon-ah? Where?” 

“Wait, when did _you_ see Namjoon?" Hoseok demanded, sitting forward. "Why didn’t you say anything?”

“It’s not like _you_ said anything either!”

“What did you want me to say?!”

_Remember Namjoon? Our ex-leader who left us five years ago without a word? Well, two weeks ago Hoseok apparently ran into him at a convenience store, but don't get your hopes up, because he's been unable to track him down since. Oh also that chicken we had delivered the other day, yeah it was good right? Oh by the way, Namjoon was the one who delivered it to Big Hit, but no one except our dongsaeng recognized him so he just walked out of the building and we missed him a second time._

"I've been trying to track him down for weeks, and this whole time you'd seen him?"

"How in the world would I have known that when _you didn't tell us anything?"_ Jimin shot back.

“Both of you be quiet!” Yoongi yelled.

And _oh shit_ , Seokjin had been worried mainly about Jungkook finding out about them seeing Namjoon, _who knew how the news could set the maknae back_ , but he was just as worried about _Yoongi_ finding out and possibly burning down the convenience store himself. 

The rapper face was completely unreadable, cast in iron. “Now." he said. "What are you two talking about?”

Neither Hoseok nor Jimin seemed to want to be the one to speak first, but finally, Taehyung- wait, _Taehyung?-_ cleared his throat.

“Last week, Jimin-ah and I tried out a new restaurant that’s been getting good reviews. Namjoon-ah was our server." he said, without fanfare. "Well, he _was_ until he realized it was us and practically ran away.”

Yoongi’s expression didn’t change, he just turned his gaze to the other, “And you, Hoseok-ah?” 

“Ran into him working at a convenience store." He held up a hand. "Before you say anything, we had a whole conversation, I know it was him.”

Yoongi was silent for a long moment. "And this has something to do with everything going on because...?"

"Hyung, we ran into _Namjoon."_ Jimin said slowly, like he thought Yoongi had somehow missed the point. 

"Okay." Yoongi said. "As strange as that is, what does that have to do with everyone being gone and distracted so much? To the point that Jungkook thinks we'll disband?"

Taehyung was gaping at the rapper, and frankly Seokjin was struggling not to do the same.

"It's _Namjoon._ " 

"I did get that much, thank you." Yoongi said impatiently. "You ran into Namjoon a few weeks ago. That is shocking, yes. But why have you all been missing half the time? And just not committed to whatever we're working on the other half?"

"Seokjin and I been trying to track him down again." Hoseok admitted. "But so far I keep missing him at the store."

Yoongi raised his eyebrows at Seokjin, almost as if to say _not you too?_ Seokjin fought down the thread of guilt and shrugged. “He owes us an explanation.” 

Yoongi had a strange expression on his face now. “Namjoon-ah doesn’t _owe_ us anything.” he said quietly. “Would it be the nice thing to do? Yes. But he doesn’t owe it to us. He made a choice. He doesn’t owe us an explanation for that choice.”

“ _Hyung_.” Jimin gasped.

"He _left_ us. Without even a word." Taehyung said, accusatory. 

“And do I think that was an asshole move? Absolutely." the rapper hissed in a breath through his teeth, let it out, gaze turning to the window. "But maybe it was a move he had to make.”

Jimin's brow furrowed. “Hyung that… that doesn’t make any sense.”

“A lot about Namjoon-ah’s departure doesn’t make a lot of sense, Jimin-ah.” Yoongi sighed and then leveled them all with a stern look. “I’m going to go meet Jungkook for lamb skewers while you all talk this out, and when we come home, all of you are going to apologize to Jungkook-ah. For god's sake don't mention Namjoon to him." 

_That at least Seokjin could agree with._

Then the rapper was gone.

There was a long silence after the door slammed shut. 

Jimin finally remembered himself and sunk back into the couch, shellshocked. “How can he be so… detached about this? It didn't even seem like he _cared_ that we saw him."

"How can he _defend_ him?" Taehyung said. "After everything he did to us, everything he did to _Jungkook?"_

It had been easier, Jimin thought, to think of Namjoon in that restaurant, forced to interact with the customer in front of him, because then Jimin could imagine that Namjoon had walked away and he'd put them out of mind and never looked back. Maybe the whole thing was just a dim memory to him now, something he joked about at parties, _"Oh yeah, I was almost an idol once, thank god I got out of there."_

It unnerved him, to think of Namjoon in BigHit, in the _new_ BigHit, a big glass and metal building that the old Namjoon had never known, with a majority of staff he'd never met, a unprecedented measure of success that he'd never witnessed. The two concepts clashed in his mind. Namjoon was something for the part of his life five years ago, lumped in with the meager meals they'd eaten back in those days, with their old manager Geonwu, with the rusting, decrepit building. 

And then to imagine Namjoon _voluntarily_ walking into the new Big Hit. Walking into a place that was such a huge part of their lives, with them being none of the wiser. Somehow, it felt like he had _trespassed._

But mostly it grated that their ex-leader hadn't felt the need to say anything. Namjoon having forgotten them and moved on, Jimin could stomach, but him walking in here, into what was practically their home, and being completely okay with walking out _again_ without a word, even after the first time.

He'd always tried to imagine that it had been some sort of emergency, but when a week turned into a month, and a month turned into a year, and a year turned into five, and he'd had to resign himself to the fact that Namjoon had really done this to them. Thrown in the towel and left them like they'd never even mattered. 

Five years later, and the man was back and didn't even bother to give an explanation? Not even an offhand comment to Sejin? He probably still felt like there was nothing wrong with his actions, and that... _disgusted_ Jimin.

"I thought he'd be the most furious." Hoseok said. "But he didn't even blink."

 _He could have been a little more empathetic,_ Seokjin couldn't help but agree. Any normal person would be notable shocked if someone who'd disappeared from their lives, especially someone as integral as Namjoon had been in theirs, showed up against after five years. Yoongi's reaction had been _nothing._ It was just strange _._ Especially for someone who knew Namjoon the most.

 _Wait a minute,_ the eldest realized, gut sinking, and he saw it suddenly laid out: they're all unsettled about Namjoon showing up again, neglecting their responsibilities, everything throw out of the balance they'd found, Jungkook panicking, thinking they'll disband, Hoseok preoccupied with tracking down their leader, Seokjin preoccupied with reigning in Hoseok, Taehyung and Jimin off arguing about who knows what, and no one to be the level-headed one _(the one Namjoon would have been)_ and reign them all back in, get them back on track.

_So Yoongi had stepped up._

Of course he had. 

Seokjin fought back a sigh. It wouldn't be the first time. 

He wouldn't be surprised if they didn't see Yoongi for a few days, locked away in the studio until he finally felt like he could emerge safely, ready to be the unshakeable hyung again, their pillar in the storms of the idol life, hiding his pain and weakness away to protect them all. It must be exhausting.

 _Was that how Namjoon had felt?_ a little voice whispered. 

_Namjoon..._ If Namjoon was here he'd drag Yoongi out of his studio, but things were different now. Yoongi did what he wanted, and Seokjin wasn't sure he was ready to risk the rapper's wrath so soon. He'd leave him some food. Yoongi would understand what he was trying to say.

Seokjin looked around at them, at the glare on Taehyung's face, the dark look in Jimin's eyes, the strange mixture of confusion and righteous indignation swirling in own gut. The way they were currently split, four of them standing here, two of them out there somewhere, anger still heavy between them when they were supposed to be a _team_.

 _Look how easily Namjoon had derailed their lives once again,_ he thought bitterly.

They’d thought they’d moved on, moved past what had happened. But none of them had really moved on at all. Not even Seokjin.

_All because of one idiot who thought he could do whatever he wanted and leave them all behind like Bangtan was a one-man act and not a seven person team._

_... A family._

No, Seokjin decided, Namjoon didn't get to escape into the woodwork this time, didn't get to shirk responsibility and leave others to suffer the consequences again. 

Maybe confronting him was the closure they all needed to finally move on.

Seokjin stood, resolution hardening in his chest. “I have an idea.”

* * *

“Appa I can’t find my English workbook!”

“Did you check under the couch?” Namjoon called through the doorway, fingers fumbling to button up his shirt. He checked his watch again, and bit back a curse. 

“It’s not there!”

He tugged on a single black sock, digging through the drawer for another, _where were all his socks?_ "What about on the bookshelf?"

"No, it's gone!"

Namjoon wracked his brain for where else it could be as he pulled on the other other sock he could find, a blue ankle sock, _never mind that they didn’t match_. He snagged his jacket off the back of the laundry-covered chair and rushed out to the living room. 

“We’re gonna have to go without it, I’m sure teacher has an extra you can borrow.” he told Hayun, stuffing his laptop and his papers into his bag. “Do you have your shoes on? And your coat?”

Hayun was halfway under the couch, still searching. “But my worksheets are due!"

“I bet she can give you an extension.” Namjoon assured her, grabbing her coat for her and helping her quickly put it on.

Hayun wrinkled her nose at the word, and _looks like Namjoon had been spending too much time tutoring those college students again._

“She’ll give you more time.” he clarified. “We’ve got to go now, or we’re gonna be late.”

Hayun looked up at him, her face crinkled with distress. “But if I don’t have my worksheets then I won’t get my sticker.” 

“Hayun, baby, if we don’t leave right now, then teacher _and_ Appa’s work are going to be very mad at him.”

He tugged on his own coat, and did a quick check that the oven and stove were off and he wasn’t going to burn down the entire apartment building while they was gone. His phone was buzzing and he dragged it out of his pocket only for it to be an unknown number. Again. _Why did these people keep calling him?_ He shoved the phone back into his coat.

"I'll explain it to her for you. Put on your shoes, Hayun." he nudged her towards the door.

“I know I can find it!” she cried, darting around him towards her bedroom, and Namjoon called after her, dismayed, “Hayun!”

He jogged after her and found her practically tearing her room apart, pillows and coloring sheeting flying everything.

“Hayunnie, please, it’s just a sticker.” Namjoon begged, checking his watch again. “Appa can buy you some.”

He narrowly dodged a stuffed animal that she had flung blindly behind her, “No you can’t!’ she shouted in her tiny, skill voice. “Not the pretty ones that teacher gives us! Everything we own is ugly!”

“ _Hayun!”_ Namjoon said sharply, shocked, and the girl cut off. 

The two stared at each other wide eyes. And then Hayun burst into tears.

Their tardiness forgotten, he set down his bag and crouched, opening his arms. Hayun flew into them, sniffling into his sleeve.

 _Namjoon’s manager could deal,_ he thought, immediately shoving all the thoughts of his possible pay reductions aside. _This was more important._

“Hayun, hun. Can you tell me what’s really bothering you about this?” he asked gently.

Hayun’s face scrunched up and for a moment he was afraid she’d start wailing again. 

“Teacher says that good families have dinner with each other." she said and Namjoon blinked, struggling to connect what she was talking about to the stickers.

"Mino says her Eomma and Appa have dinner with them every night. But I said that what teacher said can’t be true because I only eat dinner with you once a week and Jiho said that meant you were a bad father.”

He had to take in a slow breath and fight the urge to go yell at Hayun’s teacher and the other kids. _What was she thinking, saying things like that?_

His daughter turned pleading eyes to him, tugging on his sleeve.

“Why can’t we eat together every night, Appa?”

Namjoon squeezed his eyes shut, taking a deep breath.

“Hayun, I’d love to eat together every night but Appa has to work. That’s why I come home late, remember?”

This clearly didn't make sense to her, and her face furrowed into a frown. “But Mino and Jiho’s dads work too!”

He knew the two families in question. He tried to think of how to word this. 

“Yes, but... their moms work too." he said lightly. "It’s just you and me, so I have to work for both mom _and_ dad.”

“But Mino’s mom doesn’t work. She stays at home and cooks and cleans and watches dramas on TV.” she informed him.

Namjoon took a long, steadying breath, wishing he could spare his daughter the truths about their reality for a little while longer.

“When I was young, I didn’t go to school like Mino’s dad. He gets good jobs, that pay more money, because he went to school. So he can work less time than me but still get more money.”

“But that’s not fair!”

 _No it’s not,_ Namjoon wanted to agree, but he was the adult here so instead he just said,

“He went to school to be a banker, so for years and years, he studied and learned the best ways to be a banker. So when he wanted to get a job, banks hired him to be a banker because he knew what to do. And then he gets paid well. Appa doesn’t know how to be a banker, because I didn’t go to school for it. So I won’t be hired as a banker.”

“But why don’t you go to school to learn now?”

“Because school costs money and takes lots of time so I wouldn’t be able to work as much as I do. And I work so much to make money so we can live in this apartment and eat food.”

“We can live at the park and eat the grass like cows!” she offered, eyes bright.

Namjoon smiled gently. “I don’t think our stomachs would like that, hun.”

Her face fell. “I want to eat dinner with you every night.”

Namjoon's heart _ached._

“I wish I could too." he said softly. "Hopefully one day Appa will have a better job and then I’ll be home a lot more to play with you.”

Her face lit up. “Soon?”

“‘Some day!” Namjoon said vaguely, smiling back at her.

She looked like she was going to protest, already far too clever for her age to be fooled by that for long, _damn Namjoon's genes,_ but then he caught sight of something poking out from under her dented dresser. 

“Looks like you’re getting that sticker after all.” he announced, reaching out to tug out her english workbook. 

“Yay!” she crowed, scrambling to grab it and put it into her schoolbag. She gaped at the clock on the dresser. “Appa, we’re gonna be late!”

He huffed, and gathered up his things, let her tug him out the door.

He dropped her off at the school gates and didn’t miss that she gave him an extra tight hug, eyes almost apologetic, before darting off inside. 

He caught sight of a clock on a billboard and hissed a curse, pushing himself into a jog. He’d have to spend the money on a bus fare today, even though he hated wasting it on a beautiful day when he could just walk. But if he tried to walk the twenty-five minutes he would definitely be late, _very_ late. At this rate, he might be late even taking the bus. 

As he was dropping into a seat, already sweating lightly, his phone rang, _again._ The same unknown number.

He answered it, and yes, he might have snapped a little bit. _Could you blame him?_ “Can I help you?”

“Is this Kim Namjoon?”

Namjoon straightened a bit at the formality in the man's voice.“May I ask who is calling?” he said, carefully polite this time.

A pause. “This is Park Sejin, with Big Hit entertainment.”

Namjoon’s blood ran cold. 

“Please don’t hang up, Mr. Kim,” the man said, forestalling exactly what Namjoon had been about to do. “I need to speak to you.”

Namjoon forced himself to slow down his breathing, trying to make his heart stop thumping in his chest out of control. 

“Go ahead.”

“You were at the Big Hit building this Friday.”

“I had a delivery. I didn’t realize it was Big Hit before I picked it up.” he said defensively. “I didn’t do anything, you can check the footage if you want.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything, Mr. Kim.” the man said mildly. “It’s just that Big Hit has been unable to contact you the past five years. There are a few things we’d like to discuss.”

Namjoon couldn’t handle this, the bus doors were swinging open at a stop he didn’t even know and he pushed off with the others and dropped down to sit on the short stone wall, trying not to be sick.

“My contract is voided. Lack of further communication was one of the constituents.” he said quickly. “You can ask Geonwu-ssi if you like.”

“Geonwu-ssi is unavailable at this time. Due to the quick pace of your exit, there were many things we weren’t able to address, your pay for instance. Would you be able to come in so we can work these out?”

Namjoon wanted to immediately insist _absolutely not_ , but… 

“My… pay?” 

“Yes, you were never paid your part for your year of earnings. It’s not a hefty sum, but it is a substantial amount that technically belongs to you.”

And Namjoon… if this was true... they could really use that money. Things had been tight recently. _Not to mention..._

_"Everything we own is ugly."_

“I can come by.” he said, finally managing to force the words out. “It would… just be me and the staff discussing this?”

“I’m afraid your former members are very busy people these days-”

“No, no," he said quickly, "I would prefer… not to see anyone.”

“Ah, understood.” There was a brief pause. “Would you be able to come by this week?”

He took in a carefully measured breath. _So soon?_

“I could stop by near the end of the day tomorrow." he managed to say, "Or early in the day on Friday.” 

“Tomorrow would be fine. Five o’clock?”

“That works well for me.” _He couldn't believe he was agreeing to this, what was he doing??!!_

“Sounds good. I’ll have someone meet you in the lobby and show you the way.”

They bid goodbye and hung up and Namjoon dropped his head into shaking hands. 

_Maybe this would be a good thing,_ he tried to convince himself. _Some extra money would be… amazing right now actually._

 _Maybe Big Hit was finally doing something right in this whole situation._ He didn't rekindle the old anger, having let it go a long time ago, but he still felt a little stir of irritation. Only _took them five damn years. Not that any sum of money meant he'd ever be able to forgive the company for the choice they'd made him make._  
  


Namjoon had to stand on the sidewalk opposite the building for five minutes before he finally could convince himself to cross the street and walk in the doors. It was only his daughter's words, her tears, echoing in his mind that got his feet moving. 

_He could do this. They needed the money, and plus, it was_ his _money. And this was just a building, he wouldn't be seeing anyone he knew today. He could do this. For her._

Last time he'd been in here, he'd just been another anonymous delivery man, but this time, he was entering Big Hit as Kim Namjoon. It felt entirely different, and a hundred times more daunting. 

_Please don't let him run into anyone he knew today. Please._

"Kim Namjoon?"

Namjoon turned and blinked at the familiar face. It was the employee he'd helped last time, the one who'd been carrying all the boxes. His shoulders relaxed slightly against his will. _Well, he knew this guy was nice at least._

"That's me." He awkwardly raised a hand and immediately lowered it- _what was he, an elementary schoolchild?!!?_

He felt like a child again, being back here, like the angry and scared teen he'd been in his early days at Big Hit, so desperate for everything to work out. Thank god, he'd grown out of that anger quickly, it melted away at Hayun very first smile, replaced with the pure terror of _oh my god, I'm father, I'm responsible for a tiny life now and I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing._

"I'm Park Sejin. If you'd follow me." 

The man showed him up the elevator and back to the same office where he'd dropped off the food. But this time, the desk was clear, and the room had been tidied up. It felt much more formal and _much more intimidating._

"Thank you for coming in today on such short notice." Sejin said, as Namjoon took a seat across from the desk. "As I said over the phone, we recently discovered you had never been compensated for your work from the year 2013-2014, when you exited the company. However, we've been unable to get in touch with you until yesterday."

There was something almost judgmental in his eyes and Namjoon found himself shifting, heartbeat beginning to pick up. 

"Yes, well, as I mentioned before, no contact was a part of the clause of my leaving."

"Oh, I apologize, however, I've personally never seen that paperwork. It was lost when we moved buildings." 

_That... Namjoon didn't expect._

"Oh." he managed to say.

Sejin cleared his throat. "Either way, I doubt we could leave it be when we owe you a debt, Mr. Kim."

He slid a check across the table and Namjoon hesitated. The man nodded at him, and only then did he reach out.

His hands were slippery and it kept fluttering out of his grasp as he tried to pick it up once, twice, _got it._

He looked down, mentally planning to keep his composure either way because _he was an adult damn it_ , and then the entire plan flew out the window as soon he caught sight of the amount.

Oh, _oh._

It was a long moment before he managed to drag his eyes away from the numbers on the check, trying to blink away the moisture rising in them. “Thank you. Really... _thank you._ ”

_This was so much more than he'd been hoping. Namjoon would even be able to drop a few shifts a week to spend more time with Hayun._

“It's no problem.” Sejin said, looking a bit uncomfortable. “There’s just one more thing to work out. If you’ll come with me.”

Namjoon followed him down the hall, still in shock at the check now safely nestled in his wallet. 

“Right through here. You go ahead, I need to do something first.” the man said, motioning through a doorway, and Namjoon stepped inside.

He paused just inside the room, catching sight of the wide bay of windows looking out over Seoul, and was vaguely surprised to find that this was not an office, but some sort of break room, or lounge. He registered for the first time that there were a couple of people scattered over the far half of the room, all dressed to the nines, and their conversation had been cut off by his entry.

"Ah, my apologies." he said, looking back for Sejin, who had disappeared, because he was definitely in the wrong room. 

But then there was some rustling behind him and a familiar voice spoke up.

"... Namjoon-ah?"

The breath rushed out of his lungs. Slowly, so slowly, that his shoe gave a long, drawn out squeak against the linoleum, he turned around. 

And came face to face with the six members of BTS. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is even later than usual as I am back at uni now and things have been crazy busy, thank you all for your patience! 
> 
> Also I don't know manager Sejin's last name, so I picked a random one!
> 
>   
> Please know that I value each one of your comments, they encourage me so much as I work on this story (I just have a hard time replying sometimes) <3


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